The Arrival of the Black Death in Europe: A Historical Overview
The Black Death’s sudden eruption in Messina in 1347 was just one step on a vast journey that began years earlier, most likely in Central Asia
The Black Death was one of the most devastating pandemics the world has ever witnessed, reaching European shores in 1347 and leaving unimaginable misery in its wake. Although this horrific event is typically dated to the mid-fourteenth century, plague itself had surfaced in various parts of the world long before.
Understanding the broad historical context of this catastrophe—along with the types of plague involved—helps us see not only how the Black Death spread so quickly across continents, but also why it became the worst single epidemic in recorded history.
Below, we explore the plague’s arrival in Messina, delve into earlier plague outbreaks, examine the First Pandemic (the Plague of Justinian), and follow the relentless march of infection that would eventually claim millions of lives.
The Arrival in Messina
In early October of 1347, twelve Genoese galleys arrived at the port of Messina in Sicily. Messina was not just a remote harbor—it stood on a profitable trade route that bridged the bustling markets of the East to Europe. Typically, items like silk, spices, and other goods would have been unloaded at such a port. But on this fateful day, the Sicilian port authorities quickly realized that these ships were not carrying their usual merchandise. Instead, the galleys were loaded with sickness and death.
Almost everyone on board was either dead or on the verge of dying. The few survivors were lethargic and showed bizarre, alarming symptoms: black boils dotting their bodies, emitting a foul stench that seemed to cling to every breath, drop of blood, and bit of pus. It was such a horrifying spectacle that Messina’s officials drove the vessels out of port almost immediately, hoping to save the town by distancing themselves from the afflicted sailors. But this desperate measure was not enough. Within days, the contagion took root in Messina, spreading relentlessly among its inhabitants.
Panic engulfed the city as people fell ill with alarming speed. The now-doomed galleys drifted onward, presumably seeking another place of refuge, infecting anyone who interacted with them. Unknowingly, Messina had just become the entry point for the disease that would soon ravage the entire continent: the Black Death had arrived in Europe.
Plagues Before the Black Death
Although the epidemic that erupted in 1347 was exceptionally severe, it was not the first time plague had visited the world. Accounts of widespread “plagues” date back millennia, sometimes stretching into scriptural and mythological narratives. For instance, the Old Testament speaks of the Seven Plagues of Egypt—turning the Nile’s waters to blood, hail storms, swarms of locusts, and so forth—though these events are not “plague” in the modern medical sense. Instead, the word was often used in a general way to describe curses or widespread calamities.
However, the biblical story involving the Philistines in 1 Samuel Chapter 5 presents a more plausible hint of bubonic plague. The Philistines captured the Ark of the Covenant and took it to the city of Ashdod; they were then smitten with “tumours” and a sudden appearance of rats. Later translations clarify that these growths were “tumours in the groin,” possibly the signature buboes we associate with plague. The plague spread through other Philistine cities, compelling them to create gold replicas of rats and “tumours” to appease an angry deity.
Another famous example of possible plague occurred in Athens during the fifth century BC. The historian Thucydides described an epidemic that caused widespread fear and breakdown of social norms. Fever, skin discoloration, and severe diarrhea all point to a virulent disease that felled thousands. Thucydides noted that even the city’s physicians could not help and often died themselves. Although the exact nature of that epidemic remains debated, the symptoms and social unrest closely mirror accounts of later bubonic plague outbreaks.
The First Pandemic: The Plague of Justinian
The pandemic we now know as the Black Death is technically the Second Pandemic of plague. The First Pandemic, often referred to as the Plague of Justinian, emerged in 541 during the reign of the Roman Emperor Justinian (527–565). It likely traveled into Egypt at Pelusium, made its way west to Alexandria, and then spread throughout Egypt, Palestine, and Syria. Chroniclers such as Evagrius Scholasticus detailed the plague’s appearance in Antioch, while the historian Procopius offered the first eyewitness account in his History of the Wars. The disease swept through the Byzantine Empire and spread further—into Europe, Persia, and the “barbarian” territories of the time.
Crucially, this pandemic also reached Britain, Ireland, and Scandinavia. In a grim parallel to later outbreaks, the first pandemic severely weakened the Byzantine Empire, exposing its borders to invasions. Unlike the Black Death that would follow in the fourteenth century, the Plague of Justinian probably originated in East Africa, traveling along trade routes from Ethiopia and Sudan northward to the Mediterranean. The region around Lake Issyk-Kul in Central Asia—later critical to the story of the second pandemic—seems to have been spared during the first.
The Three Types of Plague
Traditionally, historians and scientists identify three major forms of plague, each caused by the same bacterium, Yersinia pestis, but manifesting in different ways:
- Bubonic Plague
The most common and iconic form, bubonic plague, is spread when fleas—most notably Xenopsylla cheopsis—transmit Yersinia pestis from infected rodents (like rats, marmots, and squirrels) to humans. Fleas become blocked with the bacteria in their bodies and grow desperately “thirsty,” biting repeatedly. When rats die, fleas naturally jump to the next available host, often humans, transmitting large doses of the pathogen.
The hallmark of bubonic plague is the swollen lymph nodes, or buboes, that typically form in the groin, armpits, or neck, depending on the site of the flea bite. These buboes can vary in size from that of an almond to as large as an orange, causing excruciating pain. Victims might also develop fever, vomiting, severe headaches, body aches, and delirium. Subcutaneous bleeding could create bruise-like blotches, sometimes called “God’s Tokens.” Untreated bubonic plague has a mortality rate of around 60%. - Pneumonic Plague
If the bacteria lodges in the lungs, victims contract pneumonic (or pulmonary) plague, which can spread from person to person via respiratory droplets. Coughing up blood is the most obvious symptom, alongside rapid, labored breathing and high fever. This form is deadlier in its ability to spread directly through the air. Without treatment, the mortality rate soars to nearly 100%, often killing its victims within one to three days. - Septicaemic Plague
The rarest but most terrifying form, septicaemic plague, happens when the bacteria bypass the lymph system and lungs entirely, infecting the bloodstream. Because the bacteria multiply so fast, victims might not even develop buboes before their hands and feet turn black (due to extensive tissue necrosis), leading to swift death. Untreated, septicaemic plague is almost invariably fatal.
Plague is endemic to certain regions—parts of Africa, Central Asia, and even some temperate areas in the Northern Hemisphere. Occasionally, changes in environmental factors (like droughts or famines) drive rodent populations to migrate. This puts infected fleas in closer contact with new hosts, sparking large-scale outbreaks. Such conditions would merge disastrously in the mid-fourteenth century, setting the stage for the Black Death.
The Origins of the Black Death
Many historians place the genesis of the Black Death in Central Asia, particularly in or near Mongolia, in the early 1330s. The Arab historian Ibn al-Wardi argued that the pestilence began in the “land of darkness”—likely a poetic name for Mongolia—and spread west and south over time. Another chronicler, Al-Maqrizi, wrote of a plague that afflicted 300 tribes, killing 16 princes over the course of just three months.
Chinese records might corroborate these accounts. In 1332, the Mongol Khan Jijaghatu Toq-Temur died under mysterious circumstances at a relatively young age. His predecessor had also died suddenly in 1328. These abrupt deaths occurred amid broader chaos. The Chinese chronicles of the early 1330s report environmental catastrophes almost on an Old Testament scale: crippling droughts, disastrous floods, vast swarms of locusts, and relentless earthquakes that wreaked havoc on infrastructure and agriculture. One such famine reportedly killed 400,000 people, while another disaster claimed as many as five million in Tche. Such devastation did not only affect humans—rodent populations were also driven from their natural habitats, carrying plague-ridden fleas to new areas in search of food and safety.
By the late 1330s, reports suggest that plague hit communities around Lake Issyk-Kul, where gravestones dating to 1338 and 1339 mention catastrophic mortality. From there, it traveled along the increasingly busy Silk Road trade routes toward the Crimean trading stations owned by Genoa and Venice. Under Genghis Khan’s earlier expansions, China, Turkestan, Persia, and parts of Southern Russia had been unified, enabling more open commerce. With these regular caravans carrying goods—and unwittingly, infected fleas—the disease inched closer to Europe.
By 1345, plague outbreaks were recorded in Sarai on the Volga River and then pushed on to Astrakhan and Azerbaijan. Traders in the Middle East became alarmed by the mortality in the Crimea, where the toll in 1346 reportedly reached 85,000. Seeking scapegoats, local Muslim forces attacked the Genoese trading post at Tana, compelling the Christians to retreat to their fortified enclave at Kaffa, on the northern Black Sea coast. The Kipchak Khan Janibeg took charge of the siege—and inadvertently helped the plague spread even farther west.
The Black Death Arrives in Europe
Janibeg’s siege on Kaffa used a grim tactic: catapulting the bodies of plague victims into the city. Enclosed within walls and in close quarters, the Genoese defenders had little chance to avoid exposure. Some of those who survived fled to their ships, only to discover too late that they had carried plague-infested rats and fleas onboard with them.
From the besieged port of Kaffa, the ships eventually headed home. Along the way, they infected ports across the Black Sea region, spread pestilence to Constantinople, and then sailed on, bringing the plague to the edges of both the Mediterranean and the Middle East. It was around this time—October of 1347—that twelve Genoese galleys landed in Messina, unleashing the disease upon Sicily.
Despite local attempts at quarantine—forcing the infected ships away or disallowing travelers from Messina to enter other towns—there was little that could truly contain plague in a medieval world unprepared for such an onslaught. Soon, Catania began to see its citizens falling ill, and mass graves were dug outside the city walls. Religious processions and holy relics were paraded in desperate hope that divine intervention might save them. One story recounts an icon of the Virgin Mary being brought to Messina from a nearby shrine, only to have the horse refuse to enter the city’s gates—a haunting sign for residents convinced that God had turned his back on them.
Early chroniclers like Gabriel de Mussis, who wrote a narrative of the plague from his hometown of Piacenza, believed the Black Death was a divine punishment for humanity’s sins. De Mussis dramatically envisions God decrying the wickedness of mankind and unleashing “the sharp arrows of sudden death” without sparing either the guilty or the innocent. This grim theological view would later resurface across Europe in the form of processions, flagellant movements, and scapegoating of minority groups, as communities sought supernatural reasons for why they were besieged by so much death and misery.
The Name “Black Death”
When it was ravaging fourteenth-century Europe, the Black Death was not called by that name. Contemporary sources referred to it simply as the “great pestilence,” “great mortality,” or even “the plague.” Arabic writers called it by names like “the universal plague,” “the great destruction,” and “the year of annihilation,” all of which reflected the deep despair it triggered.
The term “Black Death” appears to be a later invention. Scholars believe it comes from the Latin term atra mors, where atra can mean “black” or “terrible.” It appears in a Swedish chronicle in 1555, reappears in a Danish source, and was widely adopted in English only after 1665 to distinguish the medieval pandemic from the Great Plague of London. Over time, it became the standard historical label for the fourteenth-century catastrophe that killed millions.
Despite the name conjuring images of black boils or necrotic tissue, the expression may have originally meant “the dreadful death” rather than a specific reference to buboes. Yet the popular association remains: we think of “Black Death” as the times when Europe was overwhelmed by pestilential horror, bodies stacked in the streets, and the constant ring of funeral bells echoing through every city and village.
Conclusion
The Black Death’s sudden eruption in Messina in 1347 was just one step on a vast journey that began years earlier, most likely in Central Asia. Driven by environmental disasters, rodent migrations, and the unceasing movement of trade caravans, plague arrived at the bustling Genoese and Venetian outposts, then found its way into Europe through unsuspecting merchant ships. Once inside the crowded and often unsanitary confines of medieval cities, the disease spread with terrifying efficiency.
But the story of the Black Death is larger than its routes of transmission. It is also about humanity’s reaction to an unparalleled crisis—ranging from fervent religious appeals and scapegoating to medical theories that tried, and largely failed, to provide any help. The plague brought down noble and peasant alike, leaving many to believe the very wrath of God had fallen upon them. Although scientists continue to study the precise biology behind the fourteenth-century pandemic, the human toll and the cultural shockwaves it created have secured the Black Death’s infamous place in history. Even centuries later, those two words still evoke an age of unimaginable suffering and fear, a dire warning of how disease can reshape the world in its relentless pursuit of new hosts.
