So let’s say you’ve become obsessed with GIS (geographical information systems). And let’s also posit that you’re at a teaching institution, where you rotate teaching your twelve different courses plus senior seminars (three to four sections per semester) over multiple years, which makes it difficult to remember the ins-and-out of all those historical narratives of European history from the 14th century (the Crusades, actually) up through Napoleon – let’s ignore the Western Civ since 1500 courses for now. And let’s further grant that you are particularly interested in early modern European military history, yet can only teach it every other year or so.
So what’s our hypothetical professor at a regional, undergraduate, public university to do? How can this professor possibly try to keep these various periods, places and topics straight, without burdening his (errr, I mean “one’s”) students with one damned fact after another? How to keep the view of the forest in mind, without getting lost among the tree trunks? More selfishly, how can one avoid spending way too much prep time rereading the same narrative accounts every few years?
Why, visualize, of course! I’ve posted various examples before (check out the graphics tag), but now that GIS makes large-scale mapping feasible (trust me, you don’t want to manually place every feature on a map in Adobe Illustrator), things are starting to fall in place. And, in the process, I – oops, I mean our hypothetical professor – ends up wondering what historical research should look like going forward, and what we should be teaching our students.
I’ll break my thoughts into two posts: first, the gritty details of mapping the Italian Wars in GIS (QGIS, to be precise); and then a second post on collecting the data for all this.
So let’s start with the eye-candy first – and focus our attention on a subject just covered in my European Warfare class: the Italian Wars of the early 16th century (aka Wars of Italy). I’ve already posted my souped-up timechart of the Italian Wars, but just to be redundant:
That’s great and all, but it really requires you to already have the geography in your head. And, I suppose, even to know what all those little icons mean.
Maps, though, actually show the space, and by extension the spatial relationships. If you use PowerPoint or other slides in your classes, hopefully you’re not reduced to re-using a map you’d digitized in AutoCAD twenty years earlier, covering a few centuries in the future:
Instead, you’ve undoubtedly found pre-made maps of the period/place online – either from textbooks, or from other historian’s works – Google Images is your friend. You could incorporate raster maps that you happen across:
Maybe you found some decent maps with more political detail:
Maybe you are lucky enough that part of your subject matter has been deemed important enough to merit its own custom map, like this digitized version of that old West Point historical atlas:
If you’re a bit more digitally-focused, you probably noticed a while back that Wikipedia editors have started posting vector-based maps, allowing you to open them in a program like Adobe Illustrator and then modify them yourself, choosing different fills and line styles, maybe even adding a few new features:
Now we’re getting somewhere!
But, ultimately, you realize that you really want to be your own boss. And you have far more questions than what your bare-bones map(s) can answer. Don’t get me wrong – you certainly appreciate those historical atlases that illustrate Renaissance Italy in its myriad economic, cultural and political aspects. And you also appreciate the potential of the vector-based (Adobe Illustrator) approach, which allows you to add symbols and styling of your own. You can even search for text labels. Yet they’re just not enough. Because you’re stuck with that map’s projection. Maybe you’re stuck with a map in a foreign language – ok for you, but maybe a bit confusing for your students. And what if you want to remove distracting features from a pre-existing map? What if you care about what happened after Charles VIII occupied Naples in early 1495? What if you want to significantly alter the drawn borders, or add new features? What if you want to add a LOT of new features? There are no geospatial coordinates in the vector maps that would allow you to accurately draw Charles VIII’s 1494-95 march down to Naples, except by scanning in another map with the route, twisting the image to match the vector map’s boundaries, and then eye-balling it. Or what if you want to locate where all of the sieges occurred, the dozens of sieges? You could, as some have done, add some basic features to Google Maps or Google Earth Pro, but you’re still stuck with the basemap provided, and, importantly, Google’s (or Microsoft’s, or whoever’s) willingness to continue their service in its current, open, form. The Graveyard of Digital History, so very young!, is already littered with great online tools that were born and then either died within a few short years, or slowly became obsolete and unusable as internet technology passed them by. Among those online tools that survive for more than a five years, they often do so by transforming into a proprietary, fee-based service, or get swallowed up by one of the big boys. And what if you want to conduct actual spatial analysis, looking for geospatial patterns among your data? Enter GIS.
So here’s my first draft of a map visualizing the major military operations in the Italian peninsula during the Italian Wars. Or, more accurately, locating and classifying (some of) the major combat operations from 1494 to 1530:
Pretty cool, if you ask me. And it’s just the beginning.
How did I do it? Well, the sausage-making process is a lot uglier than the final product. But we must have sausage. Henry V made the connection between war and sausage quite clear: “War without fire is like sausages without mustard.”
So to the technical details, for those who already understand the basics of GIS (QGIS in this case). If you don’t know anything about GIS, there are one or two websites on the subject.
- I’m using Euratlas‘ 1500 boundaries shapefile, but I had to modify some of the owner attributes and alter the boundaries back to 1494, since things can change quickly, even in History. In 1500, the year Euratlas choose to trace the historical boundaries, France was technically ruling Milan and Naples. But, if you know your History, you know that this was a very recent change, and you also know that it didn’t last long, as Spain would come to dominate the peninsula sooner rather than later. So that requires some work fixing the boundaries to start at the beginning of the war in 1494. I should probably have shifted the borders from 1500 back to 1494 using a different technique (ideally in a SpatiaLite database where you could relate the sovereign_state table to the 2nd_level_divisions table), but I ended up doing it manually: merging some polygons, splitting other multi-polygons into single polygons, modifying existing polygons, and clipping yet other polygons. Unfortunately, these boundaries changed often enough that I foresee a lot of polygon modifications in my future…
- Notice my rotation of the Italian boot to a reclining angle – gotta mess with people’s conventional expectations. (Still haven’t played around with Print Composer yet, which would allow me to add a compass rose.) More important than being a cool rebel who blows people’s cartographic preconceptions, I think this non-standard orientation offers a couple of advantages. First, it allows you to zoom in a bit more, to fit the length of the boot along the width rather than height of the page. More subtly, it also reminds the reader that the Po river drains ‘down’ through Venice into the Adriatic. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has to explicitly remind myself that all those northern European rivers aren’t really flowing uphill into the Baltic. (You’re on you own to remember that the Tiber flows down into the Tyrrhenian Sea.) George “Mr. Metaphor” Lakoff would be proud.
- I converted all the layers to the Albers equal-area conic projection centered on Europe, for valid area calculations. In case you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’ll zoom out, and add graticules and Tissot’s indicatrices, which illustrate the nature of the projection’s distortions of shape, area and distance as you move away from the European center (i.e. the main focus of the projection):
And in case you wanted my opinion, projections are really annoying to work with. But there’s still room for improvement here: if I could get SpatiaLite to work in QGIS (damn shapefiles saved as SpatiaLite layers won’t retain the geometry), I would be able to re-project layers on the fly with a SQL statement, rather than saving them as separate shapefiles.
- I’m still playing around with symbology, so I went with basic shape+color symbols to distinguish battles from sieges (rule-based styling). I did a little bit of customization with the labels – offsetting the labels and adding a shadow for greater contrast. Still plenty of room for improvement here, including figuring out how to make my timechart symbols (created in Illustrator) look good in QGIS.
After discovering the battle site symbol in the tourist folder of custom markers, it could look like this, if you have it randomly-color the major states, and include the 100 French battles that David Potter mentions in his Renaissance France at War, Appendix 1, plus the major combats of the Italian Wars and Valois-Habsburg Wars listed in Wikipedia:
Boy, there were a lot of battles in Milan and Venice, though I’d guess Potter’s appendix probably includes smaller combats involving hundreds of men. Haven’t had time to check.
- I used Euratlas’ topography layers, 200m, 500m, 1000m, 2000m, and 3500m of elevation, rather than use Natural Earth’s 1:10m raster geotiff (an image file with georeferenced coordinates). I wasn’t able to properly merge them onto a single layer (so I could do a proper categorical color ramp), so I grouped the separate layers together. For the mountain elevations I used the colors in a five-step yellow-to-red color ramp suggested by ColorBrewer 2.0.
- I saved the styles of some of the layers, e.g. the topo layer colors and combat symbols, as qml files, so I can easily apply them elsewhere if I have to make changes or start over.
- You can also illustrate the alliances for each year, or when they change, whichever happens more frequently – assuming you have the time to plot all those crazy Italian machinations. If you make them semi-transparent and turn several years’ alliances on at the same time, their overlap with allow you to see which countries switched sides (I’m looking at you, Florence and Rome), vs. which were consistent:
- Plotting the march routes is also a work in progress, starting by importing the camps as geocoded points, and then using the Points2One plugin to connect them up. With this version of Charles’ march down to Naples (did you catch that south-as-down metaphor?), I only had a few camps to mark, so the routes are direct lines, which means they might display as crossing water. More waypoints will fix that, though it’d be better if you could make the march routes follow roads, assuming they did. Which, needless to say, would require a road layer.
- Not to mention applying spatial analysis to the results. And animation. And…
More to come, including the exciting, wild world of data collection.
Three years into my graduate school experience at Ohio State, this student of History went out on a limb and took Geography 580: Cartography. I recall that the professor was a bit of an eccentric tyrant – he’d berate students for chewing gum, and even made one male student take his ball cap off in the classroom. While I enjoyed the subject, the detail was, at times, a bit too much: I ended up getting a B+ in the course because even though I was able to trace a map of Australia into a CAD program via a digitizing tablet and puck, I refused to memorize the details of additive color systems and printing processes (this was 1995, after all). While my interest in mapping Australia’s population evaporated at the end of the semester, I retained the fascination with mapping. So much so that I forged ahead in creating my own maps for research, even as I knew that there was more to mapping than AutoCAD and, later, Adobe Illustrator. Though I will admit to spending several hundreds dollars in order to purchase a royalty-free vector map of Europe.
And now, some twenty-two years later, I’ve finally accomplished at least part of what I’d set out to do those many years ago. After about ten days of intermittently playing around with QGIS (free, open-source Geographical Information System software), I finally have a passable first draft of a map I’ll use for my upcoming Crusades course. Drum roll please:
First I downloaded Natural Earth base-maps. Second step was to create a list of significant towns, look up their coordinates and import them into QGIS, and then set up rule-based formatting to display the major cities in a larger, upper-case font (and a larger, square icon). Next, I scanned and georeferenced one of the maps from Nicolle’s Atlas of the Islamic World, then traced the (approximate) boundaries of Christian and Muslim states as polygons (snapping to adjacent polygons to avoid slivers) while keeping a wide berth of the coasts, before finally clipping the polygon layers to the coastline layer.
Not too bad, though the georeferencing goes awry once we reach the Baltic – but that’s why you only rely on the georeferenced map for the borders, and not the cities or coastlines. The labels need tweaking (both font style and positioning), and of course it lacks all the info expected of a professional map: scale, title, key, etc. But it’s good enough for showing in class (once I add a scale), and, what’s more, it will serve as the basis for tracing territorial changes over the various Crusades.
A more basic base-map that I can use for note taking (in Notability on my new iPad Pro 12.9″) looks like this, with a jaunty little rotation added for good measure:
Practicing with maps of the Crusades this semester will prepare me for even more fun next semester, when I teach my European Warfare, 1337-1815 course again. So I’ll finally be able to combine my crazy timecharts with ‘bespoke’ maps. After that, hopefully, a year-long sabbatical when I’ll be able to trace military operations in Flanders over the course of the War of the Spanish Succession in gory GIS detail. But I’ve gotta pace myself. There’s still a battle book to be written.
Took me long enough.
Seriously though. I’ve known about the concept of ‘regular expressions’ for years, but for some reason I never took the plunge. And now that I have, my mind is absolutely blown away. Remember all those months in grad school (c. 1998-2000) when I was OCRing, proofing and manually parsing thousands of letters into my Access database? Well I sure do.
Twenty years later, I now discover that I could’ve shaved literally months off that work, if only I’d adopted the regex way of manipulating text. I’ll blame it on the fact that “digital humanities” wasn’t even a thing back then – check out Google Ngram Viewer if you don’t believe me.
So let’s start at the beginning. Entry-level text editing is easy enough: you undoubtedly learned long ago that in a text program like Microsoft Word you can find all the dates in a document – say 3/15/1702 and 3/7/1703 and 7/3/1704 – using a wildcard search like 170^#, where ^# is the wildcard for any digit (number). That kind of search will return 1701 and 1702 and 1703… But you’ve also undoubtedly been annoyed when you next learn that you can’t actually modify all those dates, because the wildcard character will be replaced in your basic find-replace with a single character. So, for example, you could easily convert all the forward slashes into periods, because you simply replace every slash with a period. But you can’t turn a variety of dates (text strings, mind you, not actual date data types) from MM/DD/YYYY into YYYY.MM.DD, because you need wildcards to find all the digit variations (3/15/1702, 6/7/1703…), but you can’t keep those values found by wildcards when you try to move them into a different order. In the above example, trying to replace 170^# with 1704 will convert every year with 1704, even if it’s 1701 or 1702. So you can cycle through each year and each month, like I did, but that takes a fair amount of time as the number of texts grow. This inability to do smart find-replace is a crying’ shame, and I’ve gnashed many a tooth over this quandary.
Enter regular expressions, aka regex or grep. I won’t bore you with the basics of regex (there’s a website or two on that), but will simply describe it as a way to search for patterns in text, not just specific characters. Not only can you find patterns in text, but with features called back references and look-aheads/look-backs (collectively: “lookarounds”), you can retain those wildcard characters and manipulate the entire text string without losing the characters found by the wildcards. It’s actually pretty easy:
Yep, it’s been a computational summer. Composed mostly of reading up on all things digital humanities. (Battle book? What battle book?) Most concretely, that’s meant setting up a modest Digital History Lab for our department (six computers, book-microfilm-photo scanners, a Microsoft Surface Hub touch display, and various software), and preparing for a brand new Intro to Digital History course, slated to kick off in a few weeks.
I’ve always been computer-curious, but it wasn’t until this summer that I fully committed to my inner nerdiness, and dove into the recent shenanigans of “digital humanities.” Primarily this meant finally committing to GIS, followed by lots of textual analysis tools, and brushing up on my database skills. But I’ve even started learning Python and a bit more AppleScript, if you can believe it.
So, in future posts, I’ll talk a little less about Devonthink and a bit more about other tools that will allow me to explore early modern European military history in a whole new way.
…my export test from Aeon 2 timeline software to the web. Preparing to teach a new Introduction to Digital History course in the fall, while overseeing the creation of a modest Digital History Lab, will make you dust off all sorts of old, half-baked projects.
So we just reacquainted ourselves with my old website, started in 1998-1999, a period which coincided with me procrastinating after returning from my dissertation research in the French, English and Dutch archives. I had allowed the website to go fallow (but running) since 2006 or so – funny how a full-time job will do that. So today we reconnected, remembered the right password, downloaded local copies to sync on a new computer (using Dreamweaver), and now we’re up and running again.
Hopefully I’ll be able to put up a bunch of timelines for my various courses on the site, so I can give the URLs to students, as well as pull up the timelines in the classroom, rather than lug in my laptop and hook it up to the projector. Manually creating timelines in Illustrator has been fun (for example), but it takes a long time to make each one, and the data isn’t exportable, searchable, or manipulable like CSV files are. Which might be useful, say, if you were getting back into databases. Once I get GIS under my belt, I might possibly put up some maps as well – to replace those old AutoCAD map files from 1997. Oh yeah, I should probably replace that circa 1999 homepage too:
It seemed cool 18 years ago (to me, at least), but I’m told styles have changed since then.
And I’d totally forgotten about my attempt to create a website for EMEMHers circa 2002. Turns out I even posted a few items, like the data from Erik Lund’s Austrian generals, and a PDF of John Lynn & George Satterfield’s Guide to Early Modern Military Sources in Midwestern Research Libraries (back when the proximity of rare book rooms was critical). Most amusing is my page where I include a list of books that it’d be great to have digital copies of. Good times. Of course, it’s also kinda depressing to realize that I’m now a part of history.
Jumping back to the present, my first experiment merging the early 21st century with the late 20th century seems successful – a timeline of various events and individuals from the Crusades. A course which, FWIW, I’ll be teaching again this fall. So if you’re interested in seeing how the Aeon timeline software translates to the Internet, take a peek at http://www.jostwald.com/Timelines/CrusadesTimeline/aeontimeline.html. The timeline is dynamic: scrolling, zooming, searching, collapsing ‘arcs’, and clicking on arrows for further details. I haven’t updated the data to take advantage of Aeon version 2 yet, nor have I connected all the people and events or included many notes. But feel free to send any corrections my way.
Next up: figuring out the Simile widget, which will allow a bit more customization. An interesting example of combining an interactive timeline and map is here. Throw in embedded widgets for family trees, maps (Google or otherwise), argument maps, and Voyant text analysis – now you’ve got yourself a historical toolkit worthy of the 21st century!
Looking back over my own experience with twenty years of Internet history, I’m reminded of that old Virginia Slims cigarette ad: “We’ve come a long way, baby.”
Busy with various projects, including designing a digital history lab.
But I did attend the Joe Guilmartin memorial conference earlier this semester, where the attendees alternated between laughing at our collective recitation of Guilmartin’s many bons mots, and growing contemplative (and perhaps wiping away a stray tear or two) as his former advisees testified to his impact on their academic careers.
My contribution to the proceedings was to open up the conference with a broad think-piece about developing a more precise taxonomy/typology of the levels of war, spurred by JFG’s introduction to the subject long long ago. A few examples of the course materials he handed out in his seminal European Warfare course.
So here’s the revised “strategy” matrix. There are plans for conference proceedings, wherein I’ll explicate the below chart (and much more), and add a few more levels. So feel free to leave suggestions or comments. especially about those pesky column labels.
Here is a simple operational-level map I created for my European Warfare class to try to reinforce the ideas of:
- What the operational level entails, and looks like on a map, particularly in contrast with a tactical-level map.
- How an army has multiple strategies available to it in order to achieve its strategic objectives. There are others I could have included if I’d had time (esp. amphibious).
Of course as we get further into the 18C and start talking about Napoleon et al, we’ll complicate it with the “operational art”: multiple armies, marching by different routes, etc.
And let’s not forget that whole DIMEFIL thing, courtesy of the DoD.
Feel free to use (because you know you want to), with proper attribution, of course.
I’m thinking about making a few minor changes to my European Warfare, 1337-1815 course next semester. Past versions have focused a fair amount on the narratives of various wars: out of the 38 class meetings (50 minutes each), I devote one class meeting each on the 100YW, the Ottoman wars, the Wars of Italy, the French Wars of Religion, the Dutch Revolt, the 30YW, L14’s wars, Frederick the Great’s wars, the French Revolutionary wars, and the Napoleonic Wars. The rest are topical.
This time I’ll be condensing a few of the war narratives and warfare topics into a single class (sorry Dutch Revolt, sorry French Wars of Religion). Thus I’ll focus on the Italian Wars, the 30YW, Frederick’s wars, the Revolutionary/Napoleonic wars, but more and more Louis XIV’s wars. This will give me more space to read a few of the new French books out, and focus a bit more on the actual process of campaigning, Louis XIV-style. This includes dedicated classes on small war, professionalization (military ranks/organization…), maybe even the fiscal-military state. Shockingly, I hardly mention the Military Revolution in the course – I’m not a big fan of sweeping historiography at the undergrad level. Even in a course that covers almost 500 years of European military history!
But to the reason for my post: Any suggestions for good early modern combat sequences from movies? I’ll include a few scenes from Alatriste, and there are a few things on YouTube, but if you have any other favorites, let us know in the comments.
Just finished teaching the Crusades for the first time, like, ever. Never even taken a medieval history course for that matter. Sad, no?
Anywho, on my first go-through of a new history course I focus on getting the narrative down. (For those curious, I assigned Madden’s Concise History of the Crusades and Allen and Amt’s source reader.) In later iterations I add in more topical subjects – case studies, interesting primary sources… The first go-round isn’t always the most fun for the students, but if there’s one lesson of History I’ve learned, it’s that you really can’t make any intelligent generalizations about a period, can’t have a discussion of any depth, if you don’t first know what actually happened (or think happened, in the case of the Crusades). Especially if the prof doesn’t know.
So even though I spent extremely little time this semester talking about the period’s warfare (mostly about sacking cities and grand strategic-level stuff), my initial, off-the-cuff and undigested impressions of the military history of the Crusades are:
- Sometimes no organization and no central authority is better than lots of organization and attempted central authority (compare the First and Fourth crusades).
- Sometimes trying to avoid the mistakes made by your predecessors just leads to the same mistake, but by a different route (see just about all the Egyptian campaigns).
- Sometimes trying to avoid the mistakes made by your predecessors leads to massively-impractical schemes (see Maximilian I’s 1518 crusade plan).
- Fighting 2,000 miles from your home base is hard (see every Crusade).
- Fighting 2,000 miles from your home base while relying upon your enemy-from-back-home is even harder (see every Crusade, but especially the Third). Coalition warfare is difficult – William III & Co. did a pretty good job, all told.
- Relatedly, unity is a hard thing to come by (see most Muslim responses to most Crusades, and most Christian responses to most setbacks in the Latin East. And those Normans were a pain in the ass – I’m looking at you Bohemond).
- It is so much easier to teach a subject when you have 4 different historical atlases that illustrate just about every major operation.
- Given my reliance on all those maps, I developed an unoriginal list of generic questions to ask when trying to explain any big shift in foreign policy/war, or why a successful army turns back:
- Did a ruler or general die?
- Were they attacked on another front?
- Did segments of the army(ies) have a falling out?
- Did a coup or civil war break out back home?
- Was there a famine/economic crisis…?
- Some student will inevitably ask about those tiny little arrows on the map, and you’ll have no idea what they refer to. Count on it.
- I’m shocked how important the Byzantine fleet was in controlling early Frankish access to Anatolia via the Bosporus ferry. (But see #1.)
- Avoid naming your kids Baldwin, Raymond, or Alexios.
- I had no idea the Byzantines were so kinky, into maiming each other and all.
- Don’t expect a History Channel special on the Kingdom of Heaven movie to talk about Ridley Scott’s secular caricature of medieval religion. Do expect it to have Kelly DeVries taking us on a tour of a medieval castle.
Future posts on the explosion in French EMEMH research. My advice: learn to read French if you can’t already.
Busy with many things (thank God for Pocket Informant and GTD), including teaching the Crusades for the first time.
The biggest lesson I’ve learned thus far? If I ever become dictator, my first edict will be to ban the names Raymond and Baldwin. Deus vult!
So some graphical filler while I struggle through the rest of the semester:
Next, a timeline with far too much detail (inevitable in a first draft):
I still need to figure out how to visualize causal chains – suggestions, as well as any factual corrections, are welcome.
And on a more general pedagogical note: it’s amazing how much easier (NB: not “easy”) it is to prep for a course in a totally new field if you have four different historical atlases that you can rely upon for detailed maps and chronologies. I only wish EME history had a similar selection.