By the early 1500s, tensions in Europe were high due to rival powers—including France, Spain, the Holy Roman Empire, and the Papal States—were competing for influence. Pope Clement VII had tried to play both sides between King Francis I of France and Emperor Charles V of the Holy Roman Empire. Eventually, the Pope aligned more closely with France, which angered Charles. In response, Charles’s imperial army, which included thousands of unpaid German mercenaries (many of them Protestant), marched toward Rome in early 1527. Their goal was to force the Pope into submission—but things quickly spiraled out of control.

On May 6, 1527, around 20,000 imperial troops reached the walls of Rome. Despite some resistance from the Papal Swiss Guard and local defenders, the city was poorly prepared to hold off such a large and desperate army. The troops stormed the city and quickly overwhelmed its defenses. In the chaos that followed, they looted churches, homes, and palaces, destroyed artwork, and killed thousands of civilians. The Sack of Rome lasted for weeks and is remembered as one of the most brutal episodes in the city’s history.

Pope Clement VII managed to escape to safety by fleeing into Castel Sant'Angelo, the fortress connected to the Vatican by a secret passageway. He remained trapped there for nearly a month before negotiating his release. Meanwhile, the city of Rome was devastated. Many of Charles’s troops were Lutheran and took the opportunity to mock and desecrate Catholic symbols, seeing the Pope as corrupt and hypocritical.

The Sack of Rome marked a major turning point in the Renaissance and in European politics. It dealt a serious blow to the prestige of the papacy and signaled a shift in power toward secular rulers like Charles V. It also symbolized the deepening divide between Catholics and Protestants. For artists, scholars, and many of Rome’s residents, it brought an abrupt end to the city’s golden age of culture and stability. Though Rome would eventually recover, May 6, 1527, left a lasting scar on both the Church and the city.

In 1915, George Herman “Babe” Ruth was still just gettin’ started in the big leagues. At the time, he was pitchin’ for the Boston Red Sox — not the home run legend folks would come to know, just a young lefty with a wicked arm and a sneaky good swing. He made his major league debut the year before, in 1914, and while pitchers back then weren’t expected to do much with a bat, Ruth already showed he had something different. This was still deep in the dead-ball era — a time when games were low-scoring, hits were short, and home runs were about as rare as snow in July.

But that started to shift on May 6, 1915, when Ruth knocked out his first major league home run. It happened during a game against the New York Yankees at the Polo Grounds in New York City — which, funny enough, would later be his home turf. He wasn’t even in the lineup as a hitter — he was pitchin’ that day — but he stepped up to the plate and launched one off Yankees pitcher Jack Warhop, sendin’ the ball clean over the right field fence. Just a glimpse of what was comin’.

Even though he only hit four home runs that whole season, it was obvious the man had power most players could only dream about. The Red Sox caught on and started letting him swing more, and his bat kept getting hotter. By 1919, Ruth crushed 29 home runs — blowin’ past the old record — and that offseason, Boston made the deal that would shake the sport: they sold him to the New York Yankees. That move kicked off a whole new chapter — and sparked what folks still call the “Curse of the Bambino.”

That first homer back in 1915 might’ve looked like just another notch on the scoreboard, but it was really the start of somethin’ way bigger. Babe would go on to hit 714 career home runs, holdin’ that record for almost 40 years. But it wasn’t just about the numbers — Ruth brought flair, swagger, and pure electricity to the game. That swing on May 6 wasn’t just his first — it was the start of a new era. A swing that turned baseball into America’s pastime, and a kid from Baltimore into a living legend.

Frozen Lake March❄️
In 1658, Swedish king Charles X Gustav pulled off one of the boldest military stunts in history — he marched his army across the frozen sea… and it actually worked. During the Second Northern War, Charles needed to attack Denmark quickly but was blocked by water. Lucky for him (and unlucky for Denmark), it was an especially cold winter, and parts of the Baltic Sea froze solid. So he did what any ambitious 17th-century king would do: walked his army across it. Thousands of soldiers, horses, and cannons marched over the ice between Sweden and Denmark, taking the enemy completely by surprise. The move forced the Danes to surrender and sign the Treaty of Roskilde, handing over a chunk of territory.❄️🧊👑

Morgue Watch🪦
In 19th-century Paris, if you were bored and morbid, you could head to the Paris Morgue — where, for free, you could watch dead bodies slowly decompose behind glass. Located right near Notre-Dame, the morgue put unidentified corpses on public display, hoping someone might recognize them. But instead of just helping out the police, it turned into a full-on public attraction. Crowds lined up daily to gawk at the dead like it was a grim little museum — sometimes even bringing snacks. At its peak, the morgue drew thousands of visitors a day, making it one of the weirdest hotspots in Paris — proof that true crime fascination is nothing new 🫣🪞🧟‍♂️

Medieval Wikipedia📜
In the 1300s, an Italian scholar named Ghetaldo da Pisa took on a tiny project: he decided to catalog all of human history — but not in lists or prose. Nope. He wrote it entirely in verse. His massive poem, called the Liber Chronicarum, was basically a medieval Wikipedia meets rap battle, chronicling the known world’s events, rulers, and major happenings in carefully measured Latin poetry. Why verse? Because in a time before printing presses or bookmarks, rhymes helped people remember stuff. (Also, monks loved a good rhyme scheme.) The result? An epic, exhausting, and slightly bonkers timeline of everything he thought was worth knowing — all wrapped in meter and metaphor. So yeah, long before spreadsheets or search engines, one guy tried to rhyme the world into order🧠📜🎤

A Deadly Proposal💍
A popular story floated around during 1770, about a British man who took the idea of a dramatic proposal way too literally — he proposed to his girlfriend by shooting himself in the chest. He thought it would be the ultimate romantic gesture to show how deeply he loved her. According to the account, he aimed, fired... and survived. Whether out of shock, pity, or genuine affection, she said yes. Medical science wasn’t exactly great back then, so surviving a chest wound was a small miracle — and also a solid clue that this guy maybe wasn’t great at handling rejection. So if your proposal plan feels a little over the top, just remember 💘🔫🤦‍♂️

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