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Hear What the Language Spoken by Our Ancestors 6,000 Years Ago Might Have Sounded Like

As schol­ars of ancient texts well know, the recon­struc­tion of lost sources can be a mat­ter of some con­tro­ver­sy. In the ancient Hebrew and less ancient Chris­t­ian Bib­li­cal texts, for exam­ple, crit­ics find the rem­nants of many pre­vi­ous texts, seem­ing­ly stitched togeth­er by occa­sion­al­ly care­less edi­tors. Those source texts exist nowhere in any phys­i­cal form, com­plete or oth­er­wise. They must be inferred from the traces they have left behind—signatures of dic­tion and syn­tax, styl­is­tic and the­mat­ic pre­oc­cu­pa­tions….

So it is with the study of ancient lan­guages, but since oral cul­tures far pre­date writ­ten ones, the search for lin­guis­tic ances­tors can take us back to the very ori­gins of human cul­ture, to times unre­mem­bered and unrecord­ed by any­one, and only dim­ly glimpsed through scant archae­o­log­i­cal evi­dence and observ­able aur­al sim­i­lar­i­ties between vast­ly dif­fer­ent lan­guages. So it was with the the­o­ret­i­cal devel­op­ment of Indo-Euro­pean as a lan­guage fam­i­ly, a slow process that took sev­er­al cen­turies to coa­lesce into the mod­ern lin­guis­tic tree we now know.

The obser­va­tion that San­skrit and ancient Euro­pean lan­guages like Greek and Latin have sig­nif­i­cant sim­i­lar­i­ties was first record­ed by a Jesuit mis­sion­ary to Goa, Thomas Stephens, in the six­teenth cen­tu­ry, but lit­tle was made of it until around 100 years lat­er. A great leap for­ward came in the mid-nine­teenth cen­tu­ry when Ger­man lin­guist August Schle­ich­er, under the influ­ence of Hegel, pub­lished his Com­pendi­um of the Com­par­a­tive Gram­mar of the Indo-Euro­pean Lan­guages. There, Schle­ich­er made an exten­sive attempt at recon­struct­ing the com­mon ances­tor of all Indo-Euro­pean lan­guages, “Pro­to-Indo-Euro­pean,” or PIE, for short, thought to have orig­i­nat­ed some­where in East­ern Europe, though this sup­po­si­tion is spec­u­la­tive.

To pro­vide an exam­ple of what the lan­guage might have been like, Schle­ich­er made up a fable called “The Sheep and the Hors­es” as a “son­ic exper­i­ment.” The sto­ry has been used ever since, “peri­od­i­cal­ly updat­ed,” writes Eric Pow­ell at Archae­ol­o­gy, “to reflect the most cur­rent under­stand­ing of how this extinct lan­guage would have sound­ed when it was spo­ken some 6,000 years ago.” Hav­ing no access to any texts writ­ten in Pro­to-Indo-Euro­pean (which may or may not have exist­ed) nor, of course, to any speak­ers of the lan­guage, lin­guists dis­agree a good deal on what it should sound like; “no sin­gle ver­sion can be con­sid­ered defin­i­tive.”

And yet, since Schleicher’s time, the the­o­ry has been con­sid­er­ably refined. At the top of the post, you can hear one such refine­ment based on work by UCLA pro­fes­sor H. Craig Melchert and read by lin­guist Andrew Byrd. See a trans­la­tion of Schle­icher’s sto­ry, “The Sheep and the Hors­es” below:

A sheep that had no wool saw hors­es, one of them pulling a heavy wag­on, one car­ry­ing a big load, and one car­ry­ing a man quick­ly. The sheep said to the hors­es: “My heart pains me, see­ing a man dri­ving hors­es.” The hors­es said: “Lis­ten, sheep, our hearts pain us when we see this: a man, the mas­ter, makes the wool of the sheep into a warm gar­ment for him­self. And the sheep has no wool.” Hav­ing heard this, the sheep fled into the plain.

Byrd also reads anoth­er sto­ry in hypo­thet­i­cal Pro­to-Indo-Euro­pean, “The King and the God,” using “pro­nun­ci­a­tion informed by the lat­est insights into PIE.”

See Powell’s arti­cle at Archae­ol­o­gy for the writ­ten tran­scrip­tions of both Schleicher’s and Melchert/Byrd’s ver­sions of PIE, and see his arti­cle here to learn about the arche­o­log­i­cal evi­dence for the Bronze Age speak­ers of this the­o­ret­i­cal lin­guis­tic com­mon ances­tor.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2017.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Hear Homer’s Ili­ad Read in the Orig­i­nal Ancient Greek

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

Was There a First Human Lan­guage?: The­o­ries from the Enlight­en­ment Through Noam Chom­sky

What Ancient Greek Music Sound­ed Like: Lis­ten to a Recon­struc­tion That’s “100% Accu­rate”

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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Marc Maron Wraps Up the WTF Podcast: Watch His Final Interview with Barack Obama

Back in 2015, Pres­i­dent Oba­ma joined Marc Maron on the WTF pod­cast, mark­ing the first time a sit­ting pres­i­dent took part in this new kind of broad­cast­ing for­mat. It was a water­shed moment—a moment when pod­cast­ing went main­stream and became, soon enough, a big busi­ness. A decade lat­er, and after near­ly 1,700 episodes, Marc Maron has decid­ed to bring WTF to an end, say­ing: “It real­ly comes down to the fact that we’ve put up a new show every Mon­day and Thurs­day for almost six­teen years and we’re tired. We’re burnt out. And we are utter­ly sat­is­fied with the work we’ve done. We’ve done great work.” On Mon­day, Maron dropped his final episode, bring­ing things full cir­cle and talk­ing once again with Barack Oba­ma. If you’re going to leave your audi­ence, espe­cial­ly dur­ing these dystopi­an times, it’s nice to leave them with some per­spec­tive and hope, and that’s what Oba­ma does best. Watch the final episode above.

Boomer lives. Mon­key and Lafon­da. Cat angels every­where.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

An Ani­mat­ed Marc Maron Recalls Inter­view­ing a Shirt­less Iggy Pop in LA Garage

Stream Marc Maron’s Excel­lent, Long Inter­view with The Band’s Rob­bie Robert­son

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The 1976 Synth Album That Promised to Help Your Plants Grow: Discover Mother Earth’s Plantasia

In 1973, Peter Tomp­kins and Christo­pher Bird’s The Secret Life of Plants became a best­seller. Draw­ing from the results of sci­en­tif­ic stud­ies about whose replic­a­bil­i­ty we may now feel cer­tain doubts, the book sug­gest­ed that emo­tion, and indeed sen­tience, belong not just to humans and ani­mals, but also to, say, the pot­ted fern in your liv­ing room. Many of Tomp­kins and Bird’s read­ers must have owned such a plant, and prob­a­bly a vari­ety of oth­ers besides, giv­en the nine­teen-sev­en­ties’ fad for domes­tic veg­e­ta­tion. Though ridiculed in the major media, The Secret Life of Plants proved suf­fi­cient­ly in tune with its time to inspire a fea­ture-length doc­u­men­tary film with a high-tech sound­track by none oth­er than Ste­vie Won­der.

Did Won­der ever hear the album Moth­er Earth­’s Plan­ta­sia? Sub­ti­tled Warm Earth Music for Plants… and the Peo­ple Who Love Them, the album also fea­tures elec­tron­ic com­po­si­tions — exclu­sive­ly elec­tron­ic com­po­si­tions, in fact, per­formed entire­ly with a Moog syn­the­siz­er. Its com­pos­er Mort Gar­son had been a ver­sa­tile pro­fes­sion­al in the world of what was then called “easy lis­ten­ing,” and worked on the writ­ing, arrange­ment, or pro­duc­tion of pop­u­lar songs like Bren­da Lee’s “Dyna­mite,” Ruby & The Roman­tics’ “Our Day Will Come,” The Sand­pipers’ “Guan­tanam­era,” and Bill With­ers’ “Three Nights and a Morn­ing.” Upon meet­ing Robert Moog him­self at a con­ven­tion in 1967, Gar­son seems to have under­gone a con­ver­sion, becom­ing one of the first com­posers to ded­i­cate him­self to explor­ing the musi­cal poten­tial of the then-nov­el syn­the­siz­er tech­nol­o­gy.

The music Gar­son went on to make with his Moog reflects the zeit­geist: there was Elec­tron­ic Hair Pieces, with ver­sions of num­bers from the musi­cal Hair, a series of twelve discs based on the signs of the zodi­ac, and even the score that accom­pa­nied the Apol­lo 11 moon land­ing broad­cast. Of par­tic­u­lar inter­est to ear­ly elec­tron­ic music buffs is Black Mass, for which Gar­son took the pseu­do­nym Lucifer, and which ought to be worth adding to one’s library with Hal­loween com­ing up.

Moth­er Earth­’s Plan­ta­sia was released in 1976, three years before the Secret Life of Plants movie, though released may not be the right word: it could only be obtained free with pur­chase of either a house­plant from a shop called Moth­er Earth on Mel­rose Avenue in Los Ange­les or a Sim­mons mat­tress from Sears. As music YouTu­ber David Hart­ley explains in his lat­est video, Gar­son was asked to cre­ate an album of music con­ducive to plant growth by Moth­er Earth­’s own­ers, Lynn and Joel Rapp.

For decades there­after, Moth­er Earth­’s Plan­ta­sia could pre­sum­ably be encoun­tered by seri­ous crate-dig­gers: the Phar­cyde, for exam­ple, sam­pled one of its tracks on “Guestlist” in 2000. But it was only in the twen­ty-tens, after the estab­lish­ment of YouTube and its obscure-music-upload­ing cul­ture, that the album found an audi­ence appre­cia­tive enough to inspire a prop­er release. (Its redis­cov­ery played out sim­i­lar­ly to that of Mariya Takeuchi’s “Plas­tic Love,” the gold­en tip of the Japan­ese city pop revival.) Its tracks even­tu­al­ly even appeared in ad cam­paigns for Tur­b­o­Tax and the French super­mar­ket chain Inter­marché. To lis­ten­ers today, they may sound uncan­ni­ly like video game music as it would take shape in the eight­ies, albeit with a soft-edged ana­log tex­ture. As far as whether it actu­al­ly helps plants grow, even Joel Rap­p’s lin­er notes can only man­age the promise that “it could­n’t pos­si­bly hurt.” But I can report that it does a decent job putting my infant twins to sleep.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How the Moog Syn­the­siz­er Changed the Sound of Music

Graph­ic Shows the House Plants That Nat­u­ral­ly Clean the Air in Your Home, Accord­ing to a NASA Study

Moog This!: Hear a Playlist Fea­tur­ing 36 Hours of Music Made with the Leg­endary Ana­log Syn­the­siz­er

Plants Emit High-Pitched Sounds When They Get Cut, or Stressed by Drought, a New Study Shows

Wendy Car­los’ Switched on Bach Turns 50 This Month: Learn How the Clas­si­cal Synth Record Intro­duced the World to the Moog

A Shaz­am for Nature: A New Free App Helps You Iden­ti­fy Plants, Ani­mals & Oth­er Denizens of the Nat­ur­al World

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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The Aberdeen Bestiary, One of the Great Medieval Illuminated Manuscripts, Now Digitized in High Resolution & Made Available Online

For thou­sands of years, ordi­nary peo­ple all over the world not only worked side-by-side with domes­tic ani­mals on a dai­ly basis, they also observed the wild fau­na around them to learn how to nav­i­gate and sur­vive nature. The close­ness pro­duced a keen appre­ci­a­tion for ani­mal behav­ior that informs the folk tales of every con­ti­nent and the pop­u­lar texts of every reli­gion. Our delight in ani­mal sto­ries sur­vives in children’s books, but in grown-up lan­guage, ani­mal com­par­isons tend to be nasty and dehu­man­iz­ing. The demean­ing adjec­tive “bes­tial” con­veys a typ­i­cal atti­tude not only toward peo­ple we don’t like, but toward the ani­mal world as well. Orwell’s Ani­mal Farm and Kafka’s Meta­mor­pho­sis have become the stan­dard ref­er­ences for mod­ern ani­mal alle­go­ry.

Ear­ly lit­er­a­ture shows us a range of dif­fer­ent atti­tudes, where ani­mals are treat­ed as equals, with char­ac­ter traits both good and bad, or as noble mes­sen­gers of a god or gods rather than live­stock, mov­ing scenery, or exploitable resources.

We might refer in an east­ern con­text to the Jata­ka Tales, fables of the Buddha’s many rebirths in the human and ani­mal worlds that pro­vide their read­ers with moral lessons. In the Chris­t­ian west, we have the medieval bestiary—compendiums of ani­mals, both real and mythological—that intro­duced read­ers to a moral typol­o­gy through “read­ing” what ear­ly Chris­tians thought of as the “book of nature.”

The most lav­ish of them all, the Aberdeen Bes­tiary, which dates from around 1200, was once owned by Hen­ry VIII. Now, the Uni­ver­si­ty of Aberdeen has dig­i­tized the text and made it freely avail­able to read­ers online. Begin­ning with the key cre­ation sto­ries from the book of Gen­e­sis, the book then dives into its descrip­tions of ani­mals, begin­ning with the lion, the pard (pan­ther), and the ele­phant.

You’ll notice that these are not ani­mals that your typ­i­cal medieval Euro­pean read­er would have encoun­tered. One impor­tant dif­fer­ence between the bes­tiary and the fable is that the for­mer draws many of its beasts from hearsay, con­jec­ture, or pure fic­tion. But the intent is part­ly the same. These “were teach­ing tools,” notes Claire Voon at Hyper­al­ler­gic, and the Aberdeen Bes­tiary con­tains illus­trat­ed “lengthy tales of moral behav­ior.”

Like the sto­ries of Aesop, the bes­tiary presents impor­tant lessons, mix­ing in the fab­u­lous with the nat­u­ral­ist. As Voon describes the Aberdeen Bes­tiary:

The illus­tra­tions are impres­sive­ly var­ied, depict­ing com­mon ani­mals from tiny ants to ele­phants, as well as fan­tas­tic beasts, from the leocro­ta to the phoenix. Even the moral qual­i­ties of the hum­ble sea urchin are hon­ored with para­graphs of dis­cus­sion. Beyond this array of crea­tures, the bes­tiary details the appear­ances and qual­i­ties of var­i­ous trees, gems, and humans. Some of these may seem com­i­cal to 21st-cen­tu­ry eyes: a swarm of bees, for instance, resem­bles an order­ly line of shut­tle­cocks stream­ing into their hives. Yet oth­er paint­ings are impres­sive for their near-accu­ra­cy, such as one image of a bat that shows how its mem­bra­nous wings con­nect its fin­gers, legs, and tail. All of these rich details would have helped read­ers bet­ter under­stand the nat­ur­al world as it was defined at the time of the book’s cre­ation. 

Incred­i­bly ornate and bear­ing the marks of dozens of scrib­al hands, the book, his­to­ri­ans believe, was orig­i­nal­ly pro­duced for a wide audi­ence, then tak­en by Henry’s librar­i­ans from a dis­solved monastery. Nev­er ful­ly com­plet­ed, it remained in the Roy­al Library for 100 years after Hen­ry. “I doubt if the Tudor mon­archs took it out for a reg­u­lar read,” says Aberdeen Uni­ver­si­ty pro­fes­sor Jane Ged­des. Now an open pub­lic doc­u­ment, it returns to its “orig­i­nal pur­pose of edu­ca­tion,” writes Voon, “although for us, of course, it illu­mi­nates more about the past than the present.” See the high res scans here.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2017.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Medieval Mas­ter­piece, the Book of Kells, Is Now Dig­i­tized and Avail­able Online

The Medieval Man­u­script That Fea­tures “Yoda”, Killer Snails, Sav­age Rab­bits & More: Dis­cov­er The Smith­field Dec­re­tals

How to Make a Medieval Man­u­script: An Intro­duc­tion in 7 Videos

When Medieval Man­u­scripts Were Recy­cled & Used to Make the First Print­ed Books

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

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When David Bowie Starred in—and Created Music for—a Dystopian Cyberpunk Video Game: Discover Omikron: The Nomad Soul (1999)

When it was announced that SARS-CoV­‑2, the virus at the cen­ter of the COVID-19 pan­dem­ic, had evolved into an even more con­ta­gious vari­ant called Omi­cron, pub­lic reac­tions var­ied. For those of us with long mem­o­ries of com­put­er and video gam­ing, it brought to mind a title we had­n’t thought about in quite some time: Omikron: The Nomad Soul, released for Win­dows in 1999 and the Sega Dream­cast in 2000. More than a few gamers know it as the debut of con­tro­ver­sial design­er David Cage, whose stu­dio Quan­tic Dream has gone on to pro­duce var­i­ous games of con­sid­er­able cin­e­mat­ic and emo­tion­al ambit (if also an often frus­trat­ing eccen­tric­i­ty). But it made a wider cul­tur­al impact at the time by incor­po­rat­ing the per­for­mance of none oth­er than David Bowie.

Or rather, it incor­po­rat­ed per­for­mances, plur­al, by David Bowie: in the game, he used motion cap­ture tech­nol­o­gy to play both Boz, the whol­ly dig­i­tal leader of an ancient reli­gious order, and the lead singer of the band The Dream­ers, whose con­certs (shown in the video above) the play­er can view here and there around the dystopi­an cyber­punk city of Omikron.

Orig­i­nal­ly, the devel­op­ers had only gone to Bowie in order to license his songs for the game’s sound­track, but, as explained in the mrixrt video below, the project so appealed to his technophil­ia that he pro­posed a much deep­er involve­ment. That includ­ed record­ing a set of orig­i­nal songs, lat­er includ­ed on his album Hours… (which is itself notable in the his­to­ry of tech­nol­o­gy and cul­ture for being one of the first down­load­able releas­es by a major artist).

Among its many nov­el qual­i­ties, includ­ing pio­neer­ing the “open world” envi­ron­ment now stan­dard in big-bud­get games, Omikron grants the play­er — as the tit­u­lar “nomad soul” — the abil­i­ty to inhab­it the bod­ies of a host of oth­er char­ac­ters (includ­ing one played by Bowie’s wife Iman). It isn’t hard to imag­ine the con­cep­t’s appeal for a per­former who made his name with fre­quent changes of iden­ti­ty — and who even sug­gest­ed, at one point, that he leave that name behind in the real­i­ty of the game, re-emerg­ing into pub­lic life as David Jones. By the time he died, the bet­ter part of two decades lat­er, his role in gam­ing was most­ly for­got­ten, but one of the many trib­utes paid to him includ­ed a free re-release of Omikron. Those who took the chance to revis­it the game would have remem­bered the feel­ing it first gave them that its dig­i­tal world con­tin­ued even when they weren’t play­ing — accom­pa­nied by a sense that, some­how, Bowie con­tin­ues to live with­in it.

Relat­ed con­tent:

When David Bowie Launched His Own Inter­net Ser­vice Provider: The Rise and Fall of BowieNet (1998)

A Tour of the New David Bowie Archive Fea­tur­ing 90,000 Arti­facts from His Life & Career

How David Bowie Used William S. Bur­roughs’ Cut-Up Method to Write His Unfor­get­table Lyrics

David Bowie Pre­dicts the Good & Bad of the Inter­net in 1999: “We’re on the Cusp of Some­thing Exhil­a­rat­ing and Ter­ri­fy­ing”

The David Bowie Monop­oly Game Is Here: Advance to GO and Col­lect 200 Hunky Dorys!

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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Dr. Weil’s 60-Second Technique for Falling Asleep

Give Dr. Andrew Weil three min­utes, and he can teach you a 60-sec­ond tech­nique for falling asleep. Above, the alter­na­tive med­i­cine guru walks you through the 4–7‑8 breath­ing method. As he demon­strates, it “takes almost no time, requires no equip­ment and can be done any­where.” And once you mas­ter it, you can use the 4–7‑8 breath­ing tech­nique (explained and demon­strat­ed in greater detail here ) to low­er your anx­i­ety lev­els (use­ful these days!), nav­i­gate ten­sion-filled moments, and deal with food crav­ings.

Else­where, Weil has said, “If I had to lim­it my advice on health­i­er liv­ing to just one tip, it would be sim­ply to learn how to breathe cor­rect­ly.” Hence why he cre­at­ed an audio record­ing, Breath­ing: The Mas­ter Key to Self Heal­ing, which you can still pur­chase online.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Peo­ple in the Mid­dle Ages Slept Not Once But Twice Each Night: How This Lost Prac­tice Was Redis­cov­ered

How a Good Night’s Sleep — and a Bad Night’s Sleep — Can Enhance Your Cre­ativ­i­ty

Sleep or Die: Neu­ro­sci­en­tist Matthew Walk­er Explains How Sleep Can Restore or Imper­il Our Health

10 Hours of Ambi­ent Arc­tic Sounds Will Help You Relax, Med­i­tate, Study & Sleep

240 Hours of Relax­ing, Sleep-Induc­ing Sounds from Sci-Fi Video Games: From Blade Run­ner to Star Wars

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Einstein’s Divorce Letters and the Cruel List of Marital Demands He Imposed on His First Wife

Albert Ein­stein is the rare fig­ure who’s uni­ver­sal­ly known, but almost entire­ly for his pro­fes­sion­al achieve­ments. Few of us who can explain the the­o­ry of rel­a­tiv­i­ty can also say much about the per­son­al life of the man who came up with it, though that does­n’t owe to a lack of doc­u­men­ta­tion. Thanks to sci­ence YouTu­ber Toby Hendy, we have, for exam­ple, some of the love let­ters he wrote to the women who con­sti­tut­ed a ver­i­ta­ble parade through his life. Also, in anoth­er video for her chan­nel Tibees, Hendy reads the let­ters he wrote in the process of divorc­ing his first wife, the Ser­bian physi­cist and math­e­mati­cian Mil­e­va Mar­ić.

Ein­stein mar­ried Mar­ić in Jan­u­ary 1903, says Hendy, “after they had been togeth­er for around five years. The rela­tion­ship was in its prime, and so was the aca­d­e­m­ic pro­duc­tiv­i­ty. It was in 1905 that Ein­stein would pub­lish his four major papers that would change the face of physics. By 1912, how­ev­er, Ein­stein had start­ed hav­ing an affair with his cousin,” Elsa Lowen­thal.

By 1914, Ein­stein wrote to Mar­ić a let­ter “detail­ing some con­di­tions of them con­tin­u­ing to live togeth­er,” if not quite as man and wife. The con­di­tions read as fol­lows:

CONDITIONS

A. You will make sure:

1. that my clothes and laun­dry are kept in good order;
2. that I will receive my three meals reg­u­lar­ly in my room;
3. that my bed­room and study are kept neat, and espe­cial­ly that my desk is left for my use only.

B. You will renounce all per­son­al rela­tions with me inso­far as they are not com­plete­ly nec­es­sary for social rea­sons. Specif­i­cal­ly, You will forego:

1. my sit­ting at home with you;
2. my going out or trav­el­ling with you.

C. You will obey the fol­low­ing points in your rela­tions with me:

1. you will not expect any inti­ma­cy from me, nor will you reproach me in any way;
2. you will stop talk­ing to me if I request it;
3. you will leave my bed­room or study imme­di­ate­ly with­out protest if I request it.

D. You will under­take not to belit­tle me in front of our chil­dren, either through words or behav­ior.

Though they agreed to put this strin­gent plan into effect, less than two weeks lat­er, he wrote to Elsa, “Yes­ter­day my wife left for good with the chil­dren” — and “you, dear lit­tle Elsie, will now become my wife and become con­vinced that it is not at all so hard to live by my side.”

Ein­stein did mar­ry Lowen­thal in 1919, and the union, though hard­ly char­ac­ter­ized by ide­al faith­ful­ness, did last until her death in 1935. There would be plen­ty of oth­er women, but none who played quite the same role in his life as Mar­ić, not only the moth­er of his chil­dren, but also — accord­ing to some his­to­ri­ans — a col­lab­o­ra­tor on some of his accom­plish­ments in physics. Accord­ing to Lost Women of Sci­ence, “there is lit­tle tan­gi­ble evi­dence to sup­port the claims that Mar­ić was a co-author of Einstein’s first major work. That said, there are plen­ty of per­son­al tes­ti­monies from those who knew Mar­ić and Ein­stein that her involve­ment was like­ly.” One con­di­tion of their divorce set­tle­ment, at any rate, held that Mar­ić receive his Nobel Prize mon­ey, were he to win it, which he went on to do a cou­ple of years lat­er. This makes clear that, what­ev­er the impor­tance of her own sci­en­tif­ic work, she must’ve had a good head on her shoul­ders.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Read­ings of Albert Einstein’s Love Let­ters (and Chilly Divorce Let­ters) to His First Wife Mil­e­va

Albert Ein­stein Impos­es on His First Wife a Cru­el List of Mar­i­tal Demands

Albert Ein­stein & Sig­mund Freud Exchange Let­ters and Debate How to Make the World Free from War (1932)

Read the Uplift­ing Let­ter That Albert Ein­stein Sent to Marie Curie Dur­ing a Time of Per­son­al Cri­sis (1911)

“Do Sci­en­tists Pray?”: A Young Girl Asks Albert Ein­stein in 1936. Ein­stein Then Responds

Albert Einstein’s Grades: A Fas­ci­nat­ing Look at His Report Cards

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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A Complete Digitization of Leonardo Da Vinci’s Codex Atlanticus, the Largest Collection of His Drawings & Writings

No his­tor­i­cal fig­ure bet­ter fits the def­i­n­i­tion of “Renais­sance man” than Leonar­do da Vin­ci, but that term has become so overused as to become mis­lead­ing. We use it to express mild sur­prise that one per­son could use both their left and right hemi­spheres equal­ly well. But in Leonardo’s day, peo­ple did not think of them­selves as hav­ing two brains, and the worlds of art and sci­ence were not so far apart as they are now.

That Leonar­do was able to com­bine fine arts and fine engi­neer­ing may not have been over­ly sur­pris­ing to his con­tem­po­raries, though he was an extra­or­di­nar­i­ly bril­liant exam­ple of the phe­nom­e­non. The more we learn about him, the more we see how close­ly relat­ed the two pur­suits were in his mind.

He approached every­thing he did as a tech­ni­cian. The uncan­ny effects he achieved in paint­ing were the result, as in so much Renais­sance art, of math­e­mat­i­cal pre­ci­sion, care­ful study, and first­hand obser­va­tion.

His artis­tic projects were also exper­i­ments. Some of them failed, as most exper­i­ments do, and some he aban­doned, as he did so many sci­en­tif­ic projects. No mat­ter what, he nev­er under­took any­thing, whether mechan­i­cal, anatom­i­cal, or artis­tic, with­out care­ful plan­ning and design, as his copi­ous note­books tes­ti­fy. As more and more of those note­books have become avail­able online, both Renais­sance schol­ars and laypeo­ple alike have learned con­sid­er­ably more about how Leonardo’s mind worked.

First, there was the Codex Arun­del. It is, writes Jonathan Jones at The Guardian, “the liv­ing record of a uni­ver­sal mind”—but also, specif­i­cal­ly, the mind of a “technophile.” Then, the Vic­to­ria and Albert Nation­al Art Library announced the dig­i­ti­za­tion of Codex Forster, which con­tains some of Leonardo’s ear­li­est note­books. Now The Visu­al Agency has released a com­plete dig­i­ti­za­tion of Leonardo’s Codex Atlanti­cus, a huge col­lec­tion of the artist, engi­neer, and inventor’s fine­ly-illus­trat­ed notes.

“No oth­er col­lec­tion counts more orig­i­nal papers writ­ten by Leonar­do,” notes Google. The Codex Atlanti­cus “con­sists of 1119 papers, most of them drawn or writ­ten on both sides.” Its name has “noth­ing to do with the Atlantic Ocean, or with some eso­teric, mys­te­ri­ous con­tent hid­den in its pages.” The 12-vol­ume col­lec­tion acquired its title because the draw­ings and writ­ings were bound with the same size paper that was used for mak­ing atlases. Gath­ered in the 16th cen­tu­ry by sculp­tor Pom­peo Leoni, the papers descend­ed from Leonardo’s close stu­dent Gio­van Francesco Melzi, who was entrust­ed with them after his teacher’s death.

The his­to­ry of the Codex itself makes for a fas­ci­nat­ing nar­ra­tive, much of which you can learn at Google’s Ten Key Facts slideshow. The note­books span Leonardo’s career, from 1478, when he was “still work­ing in his native Tus­cany, to 1519, when he died in France.” The col­lec­tion was tak­en from Milan by Napoleon and brought to France, where it remained in the Lou­vre until 1815, when the Con­gress of Vien­na ruled that all art­works stolen by the for­mer Emper­or be returned. (The emis­sary tasked with return­ing the Codex could not deci­pher Leonardo’s mir­ror writ­ing and took it for Chi­nese.)

The Codex con­tains not only engi­neer­ing dia­grams, anato­my stud­ies, and artis­tic sketch­es, but also fables writ­ten by Leonar­do, inspired by Flo­ren­tine lit­er­a­ture. And it fea­tures Leonardo’s famed “CV,” a let­ter he wrote to the Duke of Milan describ­ing in nine points his qual­i­fi­ca­tions for the post of mil­i­tary engi­neer. In point four, he writes, “I still have very con­ve­nient bomb­ing meth­ods that are easy to trans­port; they launch stones and sim­i­lar such in a tem­pest full of smoke to fright­en the ene­my, caus­ing great dam­age and con­fu­sion.”

As if in illus­tra­tion, else­where in the Codex, the draw­ing above appears, “one of the most cel­e­brat­ed” of the col­lec­tion.” It was “shown to trav­el­ing for­eign­ers vis­it­ing the Ambrosiana [the Bib­liote­ca Ambrosiana in Milan, where the Codex resides] since the 18th cen­tu­ry, usu­al­ly arous­ing much amaze­ment.” It is still amaz­ing, espe­cial­ly if we con­sid­er the pos­si­bil­i­ty that its artistry might have been some­thing of a byprod­uct for its cre­ator, whose pri­ma­ry moti­va­tion seems to have been solv­ing tech­ni­cal problems—in the most ele­gant ways imag­in­able.

See the com­plete dig­i­ti­za­tion of Leonardo’s Codex Atlanti­cus here.

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

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Leonar­do da Vinci’s Ear­li­est Note­books Now Dig­i­tized and Made Free Online: Explore His Inge­nious Draw­ings, Dia­grams, Mir­ror Writ­ing & More

How Leonar­do da Vin­ci Drew an Accu­rate Satel­lite Map of an Ital­ian City (1502)

Leonar­do da Vinci’s Hand­writ­ten Resume (Cir­ca 1482)

Leonar­do Da Vinci’s To-Do List from 1490: The Plan of a Renais­sance Man

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

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The Fascinating Story of How the Electric Music Pioneer Delia Derbyshire Created the Original Doctor Who Theme (1963)

We’ve focused a fair bit here on the work of Delia Der­byshire, pio­neer­ing elec­tron­ic com­pos­er of the mid-twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry—fea­tur­ing two doc­u­men­taries on her and dis­cussing her role in almost cre­at­ing an elec­tron­ic back­ing track for Paul McCartney’s “Yes­ter­day.” There’s good rea­son to devote so much atten­tion to her: Derbyshire’s work with the BBC’s Radio­phon­ic Work­shop laid the bedrock for a good deal of the sound design we hear on TV and radio today.

And, as we point­ed out pre­vi­ous­ly, her elec­tron­ic music, record­ed under her own name and with the band White Noise, influ­enced “most every cur­rent leg­end in the business—from Aphex Twin and the Chem­i­cal Broth­ers to Paul Hart­noll of Orbital.”

Yet for all her influ­ence among dance music com­posers and sound effects wiz­ards, Der­byshire and her music remain pret­ty obscure—that is except for one com­po­si­tion, instant­ly rec­og­niz­able as the orig­i­nal theme to the BBC’s sci-fi hit Doc­tor Who (hear it at the top), “the best-known work of a rag­tag group of tech­ni­cians,” writes The Atlantic, “who unwit­ting­ly helped shape the course of 20th-cen­tu­ry music.” Writ­ten by com­pos­er Ron Grain­er, the song was actu­al­ly brought into being by the Radio­phon­ic Work­shop, and by Der­byshire espe­cial­ly. The sto­ry of the Doc­tor Who theme’s cre­ation is almost as inter­est­ing as the tune itself, with its “swoop­ing, hiss­ing and puls­ing” that “man­ages to be at once haunt­ing, goofy and ethe­re­al.” Just above, you can see Der­byshire and her assis­tant Dick Mills tell it in brief.

What we learn from them is fas­ci­nat­ing, con­sid­er­ing that com­po­si­tions like this are now cre­at­ed in pow­er­ful com­put­er sys­tems with dozens of sep­a­rate tracks and dig­i­tal effects. The Doc­tor Who theme, on the oth­er hand, record­ed in 1963, was made even before basic ana­log syn­the­siz­ers came into use. “There are no musi­cians,” says Mills, “there are no syn­the­siz­ers, and in those days, we didn’t even have a 2‑track or a stereo machine, it was always mono.” (Despite pop­u­lar mis­con­cep­tions, the theme does not fea­ture a Theremin.) Der­byshire con­firms; each and every part of the song “was con­struct­ed on quar­ter-inch mono tape,” she says, “inch by inch by inch,” using such record­ing tech­niques as “fil­tered white noise” and some­thing called a “wob­bu­la­tor.” How were all of these painstak­ing­ly con­struct­ed indi­vid­ual parts com­bined with­out mul­ti­track tech­nol­o­gy? “We cre­at­ed three sep­a­rate tapes,” Der­byshire explains, “put them onto three machines and stood next to them and said “Ready, steady, go!” and pushed all the ‘start’ but­tons at once. It seemed to work.”

The theme came about when Grain­er received a com­mis­sion from the BBC after his well-received work on oth­er series. He “com­posed the theme on a sin­gle sheet of A4 man­u­script,” writes Mark Ayres in an exten­sive online his­to­ry, “and sent it over from his home in Por­tu­gal, leav­ing the Work­shop to get on with it.” Aware that the musique con­crète tech­niques Der­byshire and her team used “were very time-con­sum­ing, Grain­er pro­vid­ed a very sim­ple com­po­si­tion, in essence just the famous bass line and a swoop­ing melody,” as well as vague­ly evoca­tive instruc­tions for orches­tra­tion like “wind bub­ble” and “cloud.” Ayres writes, “To an inven­tive radio­phon­ic com­pos­er such as Delia Der­byshire, this was a gift.” Indeed “upon hear­ing it,” The Atlantic notes, “a very impressed Grain­er bare­ly rec­og­nized it as his com­po­si­tion. Due to BBC poli­cies at the time, Grainer—against his objections—is still offi­cial­ly cred­it­ed as the sole writer.” But the cred­it for this futur­is­tic work—which sounds absolute­ly like noth­ing else of the time and “which brought to a wide audi­ence meth­ods once exclu­sive to the high mod­ernism of exper­i­men­tal composition”—should equal­ly go to Der­byshire and her team. You can con­trast that ahead-of-its-time orig­i­nal theme with all of the iter­a­tions to fol­low in the video just above.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2016.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Sev­en Hours of Women Mak­ing Elec­tron­ic Music (1938- 2014)

Two Doc­u­men­taries Intro­duce Delia Der­byshire, the Pio­neer in Elec­tron­ic Music

Meet Four Women Who Pio­neered Elec­tron­ic Music: Daphne Oram, Lau­rie Spiegel, Éliane Radigue & Pauline Oliv­eros

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

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What a Lack of Social Contact Does to Your Brain

To many of us, the con­cept of soli­tary con­fine­ment may not sound all that bad: final­ly, a reprieve from the siege of social and pro­fes­sion­al requests. Final­ly, a chance to catch up on all the read­ing we’ve been mean­ing to do. Final­ly, an envi­ron­ment con­ducive to this med­i­ta­tion thing about whose ben­e­fits we’ve heard so much. (Per­haps we made those very assur­ances to our­selves when the COVID-19 pan­dem­ic set in.) But accord­ing to the ani­mat­ed TED-Ed les­son above, writ­ten by psy­chi­a­trist and cor­rec­tion­al men­tal health expert Ter­ry Kupers, the neg­a­tives of the expe­ri­ence would well out­weigh the pos­i­tives. It all comes by way of answer­ing the ques­tion, “What hap­pens to your brain with­out any social con­tact?”

Unsur­pris­ing­ly, per­haps, iso­la­tion takes its great­est toll when imposed against the will of the iso­lat­ed, and even more so when imposed for an indef­i­nite dura­tion. “Ear­ly on, stress hor­mones may spike, and as time pass­es, that stress can become chron­ic,” says the video’s nar­ra­tor.

With­out the avail­abil­i­ty of social inter­ac­tions as “a sound­ing board where we can gauge how ratio­nal our per­cep­tions are,” one’s “sense of iden­ti­ty and real­i­ty becomes threat­ened.” The stage is there­fore set for “depres­sion, obses­sions, sui­ci­dal ideation, and, for some, delu­sions and hal­lu­ci­na­tions.” Sleep­ing dif­fi­cul­ties can man­i­fest on the more strict­ly phys­i­cal end, poten­tial­ly accom­pa­nied by “heart pal­pi­ta­tions, headaches, dizzi­ness, and hyper­sen­si­tiv­i­ty.”

While trav­el­ing in the Unit­ed States, Charles Dick­ens bore wit­ness to the pun­ish­ment by soli­tary con­fine­ment already in effect in Amer­i­can pris­ons, com­ing away with the impres­sion that it was “worse than any tor­ture of the body.” He wrote that after a vis­it to a Philadel­phia pen­i­ten­tiary, whose very name reflects the the­o­ry, held by the Quak­er groups who intro­duced the prac­tice in the late eigh­teenth cen­tu­ry, that it could “bring about reflec­tion and pen­i­tence.” After much research on the mat­ter, Kupers has come to the con­clu­sion that, in fact, it “does immense dam­age that is con­trary to reha­bil­i­ta­tion, while fail­ing to reduce prison vio­lence.” If you’re read­ing this, you may not be espe­cial­ly like­ly to be sen­tenced to invol­un­tary con­fine­ment. But the next time you start feel­ing out of sorts for rea­sons you can’t pin down, con­sid­er how long it’s been since you’ve spent real time with real peo­ple.

Relat­ed con­tent:

What Hap­pens When You Spend Weeks, Months, or Years in Soli­tary Con­fine­ment

How Lone­li­ness Is Killing Us: A Primer from Har­vard Psy­chi­a­trist & Zen Priest Robert Waldinger

Mod­ern Art Was Used As a Tor­ture Tech­nique in Prison Cells Dur­ing the Span­ish Civ­il War

What an 85-Year-Long Har­vard Study Says Is the Real Key to Hap­pi­ness

On the Pow­er of Teach­ing Phi­los­o­phy in Pris­ons

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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