Harvard’s 1869 Entrance Exam: Could You Answer Tough Questions About Latin, Greek, Ancient History, Plane Geometry & More

In 2025, Har­vard once again began ask­ing appli­cants to sub­mit an SAT or ACT score. This was a rever­sal of the no-test-nec­es­sary pol­i­cy that it and quite a few oth­er Amer­i­can col­leges and uni­ver­si­ties adopt­ed dur­ing the COVID-19 pan­dem­ic. To some observers of high­er edu­ca­tion, the dis­ap­pear­ance of the stan­dard­ized-test require­ment came as a shock, though in a sense, it was­n’t with­out prece­dent. Until the mid-nine­teen-tens, Har­vard had appli­cants take its own entrance exam, since no stan­dard­ized test exist­ed. One exam­ple from 1869, which you can see here, eval­u­at­ed stu­dents on their pro­fi­cien­cy in Latin, Greek, his­to­ry and geog­ra­phy, arith­metic, alge­bra, and plane geom­e­try.

The idea was­n’t so much to eval­u­ate the test-tak­er’s rea­son­ing abil­i­ties as to make sure he’d already under­gone the expect­ed edu­ca­tion for his class. Even so, as the New York Times’ Ali­son Leigh Cow­an notes, “col­leges occa­sion­al­ly allowed prospects to cor­rect defi­cien­cies as a con­di­tion of admis­sion.”

This reflects the very dif­fer­ent role high­er edu­ca­tion played in Amer­i­can life a cen­tu­ry and a half ago than it does today: back then, Har­vard admit­ted 185 out of 210 appli­cants; last year, it admit­ted 1,968 out of 57,435. As the coun­try indus­tri­al­ized, col­leges and uni­ver­si­ties changed accord­ing­ly: exist­ing ones grew, many new ones appeared, and a greater and greater per­cent­age of stu­dents sub­mit­ted to a process sur­round­ing ter­tiary edu­ca­tion that even­tu­al­ly came to seem machine-like itself.

To col­lege-apply­ing stu­dents today, the 1869 entrance exam may not look entire­ly unfa­mil­iar, at least to the extent that it asks ques­tions about math­e­mat­ics. Chances are, how­ev­er, that no cur­rent Har­vard hope­ful, no mat­ter how intel­li­gent, could actu­al­ly pass the test, giv­en the weight it places on clas­si­cal lan­guages. Through­out the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry and up until World War I, all young gen­tle­men got an edu­ca­tion in Latin and ancient Greek. But when both start­ed to van­ish from col­lege-admis­sions exams, espe­cial­ly after the SAT grew dom­i­nant in the nine­teen-for­ties, so did the imme­di­ate incen­tive to learn them. Reflect though that does the exi­gen­cies of a rapid­ly chang­ing tech­no­log­i­cal soci­ety, it also makes one won­der how much some­one with no grasp of Latin or Greek real­ly under­stands Eng­lish: a ques­tion to which the col­lege stu­dents of recent decades pro­vide dispir­it­ing answers.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Har­vard Lets You Take 133 Free Online Cours­es: Explore Cours­es on Jus­tice, Amer­i­can Gov­ern­ment, Lit­er­a­ture, Reli­gion, Comp­Sci & More

This Is What an 1869 MIT Entrance Exam Looks Like: Could You Have Passed the Test?

Can You Pass This Test Orig­i­nal­ly Giv­en to 8th Graders Liv­ing in Ken­tucky in 1912?

W.H. Auden’s 1941 Syl­labus Asked Stu­dents to Read 32 Great Lit­er­ary Works, Total­ing 6,000 Pages

Teacher Calls Jacques Derrida’s Col­lege Admis­sion Essay on Shake­speare “Quite Incom­pre­hen­si­ble” (1951)

Carl Sagan’s Syl­labus & Final Exam for His Course on Crit­i­cal Think­ing (Cor­nell, 1986)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

The Strange History of Lorem Ipsum: How Cicero’s Words Became the World’s Favorite Placeholder Text

Though sel­dom heard these days, the term “desk­top pub­lish­ing” once opened a great many eyes to the promise of the per­son­al com­put­er. It meant that one could cre­ate a pub­li­ca­tion with­out own­ing a press or con­tract­ing with an out­fit that did. Indeed, the whole process of writ­ing, design, and print­ing could take place on one’s desk, pro­vid­ed one had fur­nished it with the right com­put­er and acces­sories. From the mid-eight­ies through the ear­ly nineties, that meant an Apple Mac­in­tosh equipped with a Laser­Writer print­er and a copy of Aldus Page­Mak­er. For the first time, ordi­nary com­put­er users could cre­ate newslet­ters, brochures, and oth­er doc­u­ments assured that “what you see” onscreen is “what you get,” a fea­ture abbre­vi­at­ed as WYSIWYG.

That’s not the only strange-look­ing piece of text encoun­tered by ear­ly desk­top pub­lish­ers. Since Page­Mak­er enabled users to cre­ate a lay­out before even hav­ing the words to fill it, it need­ed dum­my text to occu­py the emp­ty spaces in order to pro­vide a rea­son­able approx­i­ma­tion of how the print­ed result would look. “Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, con­secte­tur adip­isc­ing elit, sed do eius­mod tem­por inci­didunt ut labore et dolore magna ali­qua,” that dum­my text begins, and it con­tin­ues as long as its defined field allows, repeat­ing itself as nec­es­sary. It may resem­ble Latin, but any­one with a decent under­stand­ing of that lan­guage won’t have to read much before notic­ing how odd­ly man­gled it is. So where did this mys­te­ri­ous text, still famil­iar to all lay­out edi­tors and graph­ic design­ers, actu­al­ly come from?

Pur­su­ing an answer to that ques­tion in her new video above, Rab­bit Hole cre­ator Emi­ly Zhang talks to indi­vid­u­als with rel­e­vant expe­ri­ence includ­ing Lau­ra Per­ry, the for­mer cre­ative direc­tor at Aldus (a com­pa­ny named, inci­den­tal­ly, for the fif­teenth-cen­tu­ry Venet­ian print­er Aldus Manu­tius). It was she who first made Lorem ipsum dig­i­tal, hav­ing pre­vi­ous­ly used it as a whol­ly ana­log graph­ic design­er in the form of rub-off Letraset sheets. She man­u­al­ly entered it straight into Page­Mak­er off one such sheet, mak­ing occa­sion­al typos along the way. That was just anoth­er phase of trans­for­ma­tion Lorem ipsum had been under­go­ing since Cicero’s words were first bor­rowed — and chopped up, and mixed with frag­ments of oth­er lan­guages — to cre­ate what became the indus­try-stan­dard dum­my text.

In the process of fill­ing the gaps in this sto­ry, Zhang also talks to Richard McClin­tock, a pro­fes­sor of Latin long acknowl­edged as the pre­mier expert on Lorem ipsum. Ulti­mate­ly, she unearths a few truths that are new even to him, includ­ing an impor­tant one about the 1966 meet­ing at Letraset in which the idea was first float­ed of a sin­gle piece of dum­my text that could sub­sti­tute for most West­ern lan­guages. It was James Mosley, the high­ly knowl­edge­able head librar­i­an at the St. Bride Print­ing Library, who deliv­ered Letraset the Cicero quo­ta­tion orig­i­nal­ly known as Forum ipsum, “which had become gar­bled by more than one type­set­ter sit­ting at his bench since the mid-fif­teen-hun­dreds.” Like­ly to remain in use as long as human­i­ty puts words on pages — paper, dig­i­tal, or what­ev­er comes next — Lorem ipsum sure­ly has a few more forms to take.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Sto­ry of Lorem Ipsum: How Scram­bled Text by Cicero Became Used by Type­set­ters Every­where

Explore a New Dig­i­tal Edi­tion of Print­ing Types, the Author­i­ta­tive His­to­ry of Print­ing & Typog­ra­phy from 1922

How Mag­a­zine Pages Were Cre­at­ed Before Com­put­ers: A Vet­er­an of the Lon­don Review of Books Demon­strates the Metic­u­lous, Man­u­al Process

The End of an Era: A Short Film About The Last Day of Hot Met­al Type­set­ting at The New York Times (1978)

Why Learn Latin?: 5 Videos Make a Com­pelling Case That the “Dead Lan­guage” Is an “Eter­nal Lan­guage”

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

How Humans Migrated Across The Globe Over 200,000 Years: An Animated Look

Cov­er­age of the refugee cri­sis peaked in 2015. By the end of the year, note researchers at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Bergen, “this was one of the hottest top­ics, not only for politi­cians, but for par­tic­i­pants in the pub­lic debate,” includ­ing far-right xeno­phobes giv­en mega­phones. What­ev­er their intent, Daniel Trilling argues at The Guardian, the explo­sion of refugee sto­ries had the effect of fram­ing “these new­ly arrived peo­ple as oth­ers, peo­ple from ‘over there,’ who had lit­tle to do with Europe itself and were strangers.”

Such a char­ac­ter­i­za­tion ignores the cru­cial con­text of Europe’s pres­ence in near­ly every part of the world over the past sev­er­al cen­turies. And it frames mass migra­tion as extra­or­di­nary, not the norm. The cri­sis aspect is real, the result of dan­ger­ous­ly accel­er­at­ed move­ment of cap­i­tal and cli­mate change. But mass move­ments of peo­ple seek­ing bet­ter con­di­tions, safe­ty, oppor­tu­ni­ty, etc. may be the old­est and most com­mon fea­ture of human his­to­ry, as the Sci­ence Insid­er video shows above.

The yel­low arrows that fly across the globe in the dra­mat­ic ani­ma­tion make it seem like ear­ly humans moved by bul­let train. But when con­se­quen­tial shifts in cli­mate occurred at a glacial pace—and economies were built on what peo­ple car­ried on their backs—mass migra­tions hap­pened over the span of thou­sands of years. Yet they hap­pened con­tin­u­ous­ly through­out the last 200,000 to 70,000 years of human his­to­ry, give or take. We may nev­er know what drove so many of our dis­tant ances­tors to spread around the world.

But how can we know what routes they took to get there? “Thanks to the amaz­ing work of anthro­pol­o­gists and pale­on­tol­o­gists like those work­ing on Nation­al Geographic’s Geno­graph­ic Project,” Sci­ence Insid­er explains, “we can begin to piece togeth­er the sto­ry of our ances­tors.” The Geno­graph­ic Project was launched by Nation­al Geo­graph­ic in 2005, “in col­lab­o­ra­tion with sci­en­tists and uni­ver­si­ties around the world.” Since then, it has col­lect­ed the genet­ic data of over 1 mil­lion peo­ple, “with a goal of reveal­ing pat­terns of human migra­tion.”

The project assures us it is “anony­mous, non­med­ical, and non­prof­it.” Par­tic­i­pants sub­mit­ted their own DNA with Nation­al Geographic’s “Geno” ances­try kits (and may still do so until next month). They can receive a “deep ances­try” report and cus­tomized migra­tion map; and they can learn how close­ly they are relat­ed to “his­tor­i­cal genius­es,” a cat­e­go­ry that, for some rea­son, includes Jesse James.

Do projects like these veer close to recre­at­ing the “race sci­ence” of pre­vi­ous cen­turies? Are they valid ways of recon­struct­ing the “human sto­ry” of ances­try, as Nation­al Geo­graph­ic puts it? Crit­ics like sci­ence jour­nal­ist Angela Sai­ni are skep­ti­cal. “DNA test­ing can­not tell you that,” she says in an inter­view on NPR, but it can “make us believe that iden­ti­ty is bio­log­i­cal, when iden­ti­ty is cul­tur­al.” Nation­al Geo­graph­ic seems to dis­avow asso­ci­a­tions between genet­ics and race, writ­ing, “sci­ence defines you by your DNA, soci­ety defines you by the col­or of your skin.” But it does so at the end of a video about a group of peo­ple bond­ing over their sim­i­lar fea­tures.

Despite the sig­nif­i­cance mod­ern humans have ascribed to vari­a­tions in phe­no­type, race is a cul­tur­al­ly defined cat­e­go­ry and not a sci­en­tif­ic one, argues Joseph L. Graves, pro­fes­sor of bio­log­i­cal sci­ences at the Joint School of Nanoscience and Nano­engi­neer­ing. “Every­thing we know about our genet­ics has proven that we are far more alike than we are dif­fer­ent. If more peo­ple under­stood that, it would be eas­i­er to debunk the myth that peo­ple of a cer­tain race are ‘nat­u­ral­ly’ one way or anoth­er,” or that refugees and asy­lum seek­ers are dan­ger­ous oth­ers instead of just like every oth­er human who has moved around the world over the last 200,000 years.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2019.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Col­or­ful Ani­ma­tion Visu­al­izes 200 Years of Immi­gra­tion to the U.S. (1820-Present)

Where Did Human Beings Come From? 7 Mil­lion Years of Human Evo­lu­tion Visu­al­ized in Six Min­utes

Watch Ani­ma­tions Show­ing How Humans Migrat­ed Across the World Over the Past 60,000 Years

How the Human Pop­u­la­tion Reached 8 Bil­lion: An Ani­mat­ed Video Cov­ers 300,000 Years of His­to­ry in Four Min­utes

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. 

Hear the First Book of Homer’s Iliad Read Aloud in the Original Greek

You can, of course, learn the Greek lan­guage as it’s spo­ken today. You can also learn Greek as it was spo­ken in antiq­ui­ty — and as it was, until fair­ly recent­ly in his­tor­i­cal time, taught to stu­dents in the mod­ern West. But it’s a fair­ly dif­fer­ent endeav­or again to learn Greek as Homer spoke it. The fact of the mat­ter is that no human being ever real­ly spoke like Achilles, Agamem­non, Odysseus, Pene­lope, or any of the oth­er char­ac­ters in the Ili­ad and Odyssey. Home­r’s many lit­er­ary achieve­ments through these works include the cre­ation and com­mand of a kind of syn­the­sized poet­ic Greek, com­bin­ing qual­i­ties of region­al Ion­ic and Aeolic dialects with var­i­ous forms and expres­sions that were out­dat­ed even in the eighth cen­tu­ry BC. If it served the meter, Homer used it.

Need­less to say, when most of us attempt to read Homer aloud in the orig­i­nal, we get it all or most­ly wrong, even if we’re famil­iar with mod­ern Greek. We’d have to spend a long time indeed in the world of clas­si­cists before hear­ing a more accu­rate record­ing than the one above, deliv­ered by a YouTu­ber called Thomas Whichel­lo.

On his chan­nel, Whichel­lo spe­cial­izes in per­form­ing ven­er­a­ble lit­er­ary texts with a pro­nun­ci­a­tion and cadence as close to peri­od-accu­rate as pos­si­ble, often in the orig­i­nal lan­guage, some­times with his own musi­cal accom­pa­ni­ment. He’s done read­ings of the Bible, Shake­speare, Keats, and Wilde, but none so far has been so pop­u­lar as his ren­di­tion of the first book of the Ili­ad, accom­pa­nied by sub­ti­tles of Home­r’s text and an Eng­lish trans­la­tion.

A Greek here in 2026 with no par­tic­u­lar knowl­edge of the clas­si­cal lan­guage may under­stand a quar­ter of the indi­vid­ual words Whichel­lo uses, and maybe half of them in cer­tain pas­sages. Actu­al­ly being able to fol­low the sto­ry, how­ev­er, is anoth­er mat­ter. Still, you can get a sur­pris­ing amount out of the video even if you under­stand noth­ing at all, since Whichel­lo is aim­ing not just for lin­guis­tic accu­ra­cy, but also emo­tion­al res­o­nance in his deliv­ery. Ignore his glass­es, but­ton-down shirt, micro­phone, and win­dow frame, and you could almost be sit­ting around a camp­fire with him near­ly 30 cen­turies ago. Note, also, that the com­menters include gen­uine clas­si­cists who call his the best read­ing they’ve ever heard — as well as view­ers, cre­den­tialed or oth­er­wise, eager to hear him name all those mighty Achaean ships in Book 2.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Watch All 18,225 Lines of the Ili­ad Read by 66 Actors in a Marathon Event For an Audi­ence of 50,000

Hear What Homer’s Odyssey Sound­ed Like When Sung in the Orig­i­nal Ancient Greek

Learn Ancient Greek in 118 Free Lessons: A Free Online Course from Bran­deis & Har­vard

The Ancient Greeks: A Free Online Course from Wes­leyan Uni­ver­si­ty

Lis­ten to The Epic of Gil­gamesh Being Read in its Orig­i­nal Ancient Lan­guage, Akka­di­an

Hear Beowulf and Gawain and the Green Knight Read in Their Orig­i­nal Old and Mid­dle Eng­lish by an MIT Medieval­ist

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

An Introduction to the Islamic World: 1,000 Years of History in 19 Minutes

Ref­er­ences to Islam in major media can make it sound mono­lith­ic and eter­nal. But it’s actu­al­ly a much younger and less uni­fied phe­nom­e­non than many of us imag­ine, espe­cial­ly if we hap­pen to live out­side the Mid­dle East. As a reli­gion, it dates back “only” to the sev­enth cen­tu­ry, when it was found­ed by the Prophet Muham­mad. As an engine of large-scale civ­i­liza­tion, Islam took a bit longer to come into its own, and it has­n’t stopped under­go­ing divi­sions, trans­for­ma­tions, declines, and rebirths since. Here on Open Cul­ture, we recent­ly fea­tured a video from YouTube chan­nel How So cov­er­ing 1,000 years of medieval Euro­pean his­to­ry in 20 min­utes. The one above does the same thing for the Islam­ic world’s first mil­len­ni­um, end­ing with the rise of the Ottoman Empire.

After he unit­ed the for­mer­ly poly­the­is­tic Arab tribes under his new faith, Muham­mad lived for a decade longer. His death in the year 632 marked the last time that every believ­er in Islam would have been on the same page. It was at that point that the title caliph, or suc­ces­sor, was defined, and the first four caliphs after Muham­mad held pow­er for thir­ty years, the peri­od in which the first Mus­lim state emerged.

The caliphate, as their ter­ri­to­ry was called, expand­ed wide­ly across and out of the Ara­bi­an Penin­su­la, into the ter­ri­to­ries of the Byzan­tine and Sas­san­ian empires. Sup­port­ers of the ear­ly caliph Ali ibn Abi Tal­ib argued that he was the true heir to Islam, and detrac­tors that he was­n’t. Even­tu­al­ly, the for­mer group became known as the Shias, and the lat­ter as the Sun­nis, the two sides of a schism of which prac­ti­cal­ly every­one today has heard.

Less­er known to the gen­er­al pub­lic are the Umayyads, Abbasids, Buyids, and Fatimids, all of them major play­ers in the con­tin­u­ing expan­sion of Islam well into the Mid­dle Ages. But the still-famil­iar place names of Dam­as­cus, Jerusalem, Bagh­dad, and Con­stan­tino­ple (or, as we know it, Istan­bul) are just as impor­tant in these chap­ters of the sto­ry of Islam, and with­out under­stand­ing that reli­gion, it’s impos­si­ble to under­stand the diverse forms that civ­i­liza­tion has tak­en in those places and oth­ers in the wider region of the world around them. The cri­sis of author­i­ty that began set­ting in after Muham­mad’s death has, in some sense, per­sist­ed for near­ly four­teen cen­turies now, more than long enough to have become a defin­ing char­ac­ter­is­tic of the Islam­ic world. What shape its soci­eties will take over the next mil­len­ni­um, it would sure­ly take a prophet to know.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Birth and Rapid Rise of Islam, Ani­mat­ed (622‑1453)

500+ Beau­ti­ful Man­u­scripts from the Islam­ic World Now Dig­i­tized & Free to Down­load

How Medieval Islam­ic Engi­neer­ing Brought Water to the Alham­braThe Com­plex Geom­e­try of Islam­ic Art & Design: A Short Intro­duc­tion

The World Map That Intro­duced Sci­en­tif­ic Map­mak­ing to the Medieval Islam­ic World (1154 AD)

Learn Islam­ic & Indi­an Phi­los­o­phy with 107 Episodes of the His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy With­out Any Gaps Pod­cast

1,000 Years of Medieval Euro­pean His­to­ry in 20 Min­utes

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

A Tour of Athens’ Acropolis, Explained with 3D Reconstructions

Since it was first built as a Myce­naean fortress in the thir­teenth cen­tu­ry BC, what we now know as the Acrop­o­lis has been used to wor­ship not just Greek gods, but also, in lat­er peri­ods, the Vir­gin Mary and Allah. Now, of course, with its days of mil­i­tary and reli­gious func­tions long behind it, it stands as a set of ruins. Still, they’re very pop­u­lar ruins, as evi­denced by the crowds cap­tured in the video above from Manuel Bra­vo. Though most tourists at the Acrop­o­lis come with the idea that its build­ings would have looked more glo­ri­ous in the dis­tant past, few can have much of a sense of how to imag­ine that with any accu­ra­cy. Using 3D mod­els, Bra­vo inte­grates views of how the Parthenon, the Tem­ple of Athena Nike, and oth­er struc­tures look now with how they would have looked in Athens’ gold­en age.

To ful­ly appre­ci­ate the Acrop­o­lis requires not just an idea of how it was orig­i­nal­ly intend­ed to look, as Bra­vo empha­sizes, but also the inten­tions of ancient Greek archi­tec­ture. The approach up the hill was meant to feel like an ascent from the mun­dane world into the sacred one.

Enter­ing the cen­tral space on top, the vis­i­tor was led to view­ing points that showed the sur­round­ing col­lec­tion of build­ings at their most dra­mat­ic, a design the archi­tects might have described as cin­e­mat­ic, had cin­e­ma exist­ed at the time. Even in its ruined state, the Acrop­o­lis still trans­mits a sense of how, where, and to what degree that vis­i­tor was meant to be filled with awe, as well as where he was meant to look. And noth­ing up there — at least in the absence of Phidias’ thir­ty-foot stat­ue Athena Pro­ma­chos — draws atten­tion as delib­er­ate­ly as the Parthenon.

As we pre­vi­ous­ly not­ed here on Open Cul­ture, if you make the trip to the Acrop­o­lis your­self, you can now see the Parthenon with­out scaf­fold­ing (or, depend­ing on when you go, a min­i­mum of scaf­fold­ing) for the first time in 200 years. That lack of obstruc­tion makes it eas­i­er to envi­sion the glo­ries of that cel­e­brat­ed build­ing back when it was both the tem­ple of Athena and the trea­sury of Athens. But as Bra­vo says, if you real­ly want to gaze upon the Parthenon as the ancients knew it, mar­bles and all, you’ll have to make the trek out to Nashville, Ten­nessee, where a full-scale repli­ca was built in 1897 for the city’s Cen­ten­ni­al Expo­si­tion. It may feel a bit odd to turn up in a place known for coun­try music and bach­e­lorette par­ties in search of the archi­tec­tur­al, and per­haps spir­i­tu­al foun­da­tion of Europe. But then, civ­i­liza­tion has nev­er tak­en a pre­dictable course.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How the Ancient Greeks Built Their Mag­nif­i­cent Tem­ples: The Art of Ancient Engi­neer­ing

A 3D Mod­el Reveals What the Parthenon and Its Inte­ri­or Looked Like 2,500 Years Ago

A Vir­tu­al Tour of Ancient Athens: Fly Over Clas­si­cal Greek Civ­i­liza­tion in All Its Glo­ry

The City of Nashville Built a Full-Scale Repli­ca of the Parthenon in 1897, and It’s Still Stand­ing Today

How the World’s Biggest Dome Was Built: The Sto­ry of Fil­ip­po Brunelleschi and the Duo­mo in Flo­rence

Take a High Def, Guid­ed Tour of Pom­peii

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Take a Random Walk Around the Berlin Wall Just Months Before Its Sudden Fall (Summer 1989)

Offi­cial­ly, the Berlin Wall fell on Novem­ber 9, 1989. Demo­li­tion would take more than four years, and a few sec­tions remain for memo­r­i­al pur­pos­es, but it was on that date that pas­sage between East and West Berlin — and thus East and West Ger­many — opened to all cit­i­zens of both coun­tries. To say that it came as a sur­prise would be a seri­ous under­state­ment. Ear­li­er that year, even the best informed observers were pre­dict­ing that the wall would stand for at least a few more decades. Ear­li­er that day, for that mat­ter, the offi­cials involved in the open­ing did­n’t fore­see that Social­ist Uni­ty Par­ty of Ger­many Sec­re­tary of Infor­ma­tion Gün­ter Sch­abows­ki would, that evening, mis­tak­en­ly declare on nation­al tele­vi­sion that the lib­er­al­iza­tion of bor­der trav­el was effec­tive “imme­di­ate­ly, with­out delay.”

When the bor­der guards final­ly gave up their attempts to hold the line around 11:00 that night, the sur­round­ing scene in both Berlins had turned into what atten­dees now remem­ber, 36 years lat­er, as the biggest street fes­ti­val of their lives. To those of us unable to join in the cel­e­bra­tion at the time, it may seem unlike­ly that such an event could real­ly have occurred with no inti­ma­tions what­so­ev­er.

Yet the footage shot by a trav­el­er in Berlin dur­ing the sum­mer of 1989, right there in the vicin­i­ty of the wall, depicts a city where events seem to be frozen. Though the built envi­ron­ment isn’t with­out touch­es of fad­ed grandeur here and there (and as many West Berlin­ers were soon to dis­cov­er, the real urban state­li­ness was over East), the over­all impres­sion giv­en by what was then the red hot cen­ter of Cold War geopol­i­tics is that of a dullsville.

The most out­ward­ly inter­est­ing fea­ture in these parts of Berlin at the very end of the nine­teen-eight­ies is, of course, the wall itself: the brutish­ness of its form, the hum­drum men­ace of its guards, the accu­mu­la­tion of graf­fi­ti both polit­i­cal and apo­lit­i­cal. At one point, the tourist’s cam­corder cap­tures the memo­ri­als for fall­en wall jumpers, the most recent of which, a cer­tain Chris Guef­froy, had made his fate­ful escape attempt from the East that past Feb­ru­ary. His­to­ry would soon immor­tal­ize him as the last per­son to be shot try­ing to get over the wall, though not the last to die doing so. That title belongs to Win­fried Freuden­berg, who in March of 1989 fell from a bal­loon he’d rigged up to fly across the bor­der. At this point, when the rapid urban evo­lu­tion of the reuni­fied Ger­man cap­i­tal has long since made it one of the most pop­u­lar cities in Europe, nei­ther she nor Guef­froy would rec­og­nize the for­mer East Berlin they were des­per­ate to escape — nor, for that mat­ter, the West Berlin of which they dreamed.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How the Berlin Wall Worked: The Engi­neer­ing & Struc­tur­al Design of the Wall That For­mi­da­bly Divid­ed East & West

See Berlin Before and After World War II in Star­tling Col­or Video

The Gold­en Age of Berlin Comes to Life in the Clas­sic, Avant-Garde Film, Berlin: Sym­pho­ny of a Metrop­o­lis (1927)

The Dos & Don’ts of Dri­ving to West Berlin Dur­ing the Cold War: A Weird Piece of Ephemera from the 1980s

Bruce Spring­steen Plays East Berlin in 1988: I’m Not Here For Any Gov­ern­ment. I’ve Come to Play Rock

Watch Samuel Beck­ett Walk the Streets of Berlin Like a Boss, 1969

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Who Would Be King of the United States If George Washington Had Become a Monarch?

The young George Wash­ing­ton may nev­er have hacked up his father’s cher­ry tree and refused to lie about it, but his life nev­er­the­less offers plen­ty of deeds both vir­tu­ous and ade­quate­ly doc­u­ment­ed. It was no small thing, for instance, to refuse to seek a third term as the first Pres­i­dent of the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca — much less to exchange that title for “King of the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca.” As every enthu­si­ast of Amer­i­can his­to­ry knows, this set the prece­dent, only once vio­lat­ed and there­after writ­ten into law, of a two-term lim­it. But as every enthu­si­ast of alter­nate Amer­i­can his­to­ry has won­dered, what would have hap­pened had Wash­ing­ton become king? And if the U.S. monar­chy had remained intact for the past 227 years, who would rule it today?

In the Use­fulCharts video above, Matt Bak­er explains a series of dif­fer­ent suc­ces­sion sce­nar­ios. While none is high­ly plau­si­ble in itself, they togeth­er give an idea of the lines along which Amer­i­can monar­chi­cal his­to­ry could have played out, at least assum­ing that every oth­er event played out exact­ly the same way as it has in our real­i­ty.

One of the first com­pli­cat­ing fac­tors is that Wash­ing­ton him­self had no bio­log­i­cal descen­dants. Giv­en that, we can trace down a the­o­ret­i­cal roy­al lin­eage start­ing with his adopt­ed son, born from his wife Martha’s first mar­riage; with the nephew he select­ed as the pri­ma­ry heir of his estate; or with the senior-most heir of his father (own­er of the notion­al cher­ry tree). Not that any of those major paths through the chart of Wash­ing­ton’s indi­rect descen­dants is nec­es­sar­i­ly straight­for­ward either.

The whole mat­ter seems at least as com­pli­cat­ed as fig­ur­ing out who would be the Roman emper­or if Rome had nev­er fall­en, an exer­cise Bak­er works through in anoth­er Use­fulCharts video pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture. The pos­si­bil­i­ties for the Amer­i­can monarch in 2026 come down to King Robert III, or Robert E. Lee V (and great-great grand­son of Robert E. Lee); Queen Bryn­da, or Bryn­da Hansen; King Richard, or Richard Wash­ing­ton; and King Lar­ry II, or Lawrence Shaffn­er, the descen­dant of George Wash­ing­ton’s nephew Bushrod. Bak­er finds that Shaffn­er is the most con­vinc­ing can­di­date for the job, which is hard to deny. Even apart from the rel­e­vant famil­ial, polit­i­cal, and legal fac­tors, con­sid­er that name again. King Lar­ry: apart from the title, how much more Amer­i­can could it pos­si­bly sound?

Relat­ed con­tent:

Who Would Be Emper­or If the Roman Empire Still Exist­ed Today?

How George Wash­ing­ton Became Pres­i­dent of the Unit­ed States: It Was Weird­er Than You Think

George Washington’s 110 Rules for Civil­i­ty and Decent Behav­ior

What We Can Learn from Past Pres­i­dents

A Japan­ese Illus­trat­ed His­to­ry of Amer­i­ca (1861): Fea­tures George Wash­ing­ton Punch­ing Tigers, John Adams Slay­ing Snakes & Oth­er Fan­tas­tic Scenes

A Visu­al Time­line of World His­to­ry: Watch the Rise & Fall of Civ­i­liza­tions Over 5,000 Years

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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