The seven-day week is so deeply baked into modern life that it feels almost inevitable. Workdays, weekends, school schedules, streaming release dates — nearly everything runs on the same seven-day rhythm. But there’s nothing especially natural about a week. Unlike a year, a month, or a day, it doesn’t neatly correspond to a major astronomical event.
While a year is tied to Earth’s orbit around the sun, a month is roughly one full cycle of moon phases, and a day is one rotation of Earth on its axis, the length of a week isn’t cut and dry. So why is it seven days instead of, say, five, eight, or 12?
The seven-day week has endured for thousands of years, surviving empires, revolutions, religious shifts, and even a few determined attempts to replace it. Its origins lie in a mix of astronomy, astrology, religion, and ancient practicality — with a healthy dose of historical debate.
Many historians trace the roots of the seven-day week to ancient Mesopotamia, home to some of the world’s earliest astronomers. The Babylonians closely observed the sky and attached special importance to the number seven, partly because they recognized seven major celestial bodies moving independently: the sun, the moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Today, we know the sun and moon aren’t planets, but in the ancient world they were grouped together with the five planets visible to the naked eye.
The Babylonians also used a lunar calendar, and the phases of the moon may have helped shape the structure of the week. A full lunar cycle lasts about 29.5 days, which can be divided into four roughly seven-day phases. Some scholars believe Mesopotamian societies, including the Sumerians and Babylonians, used these quarter-moon intervals as the basis for a recurring seven-day cycle, and this is one basis for our current week.
However, scholars continue to debate exactly how much the modern week is influenced by this Babylonian practice versus by ancient Jewish tradition. The biblical creation story helped cement the importance of the number seven in Jewish culture: According to Genesis, God created the world in six days and rested on the seventh. That seventh day became the Sabbath, a recurring day of rest and worship. Unlike many earlier calendars tied directly to lunar phases, the Jewish week evolved into a continuous repeating cycle independent of the moon.
The Romans initially followed a different system entirely. For centuries, Roman civil life revolved around an eight-day market cycle. But as astrology from the eastern Mediterranean spread through the Roman Empire, the seven-day planetary week became increasingly popular. Each day was associated with one of the seven classical planets.
In 321 CE, Roman Emperor Constantine officially established the seven-day week in the Roman calendar, helping spread it across Europe. Some of those planetary names still survive in English today. Sunday honors the sun, Monday the moon, and Saturday Saturn. The names for the other weekdays reflect Anglo-Saxon names for Norse deities. Tuesday comes from Tiw, a Norse war god linked with Mars. Wednesday honors Odin (or Woden), associated with Mercury. Thursday derives from Thor, connected with Jupiter, while Friday honors Frigg, tied to Venus.
Not every culture embraced seven-day weeks, however. Ancient Egypt sometimes used 10-day cycles, while parts of West Africa followed four-day market weeks. Revolutionary governments also occasionally tried to reinvent the calendar. During the French Revolution, reformers introduced a 10-day week intended to break with religious tradition and make timekeeping more “rational.” (All the days and months were named after elements in nature.) Soviet officials later experimented with five-day and six-day workweeks in an effort to maximize industrial productivity; the days were even color-coded. Neither experiment lasted.
The persistence of the seven-day week is remarkable, considering how arbitrary the unit really is. Unlike days, months, or years, a week is fundamentally a human invention — one shaped by ancient sky-watchers and thousands of years of habit.
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7 Curious Facts About the Roosevelts
Photo credit: Hulton Archive / Stringer via Getty Images
AuthorBennett Kleinman
June 7, 2026
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The Roosevelts are one of American history’s most prolific and influential political families: Leaders such as Theodore Roosevelt, Franklin D. Roosevelt, and Eleanor Roosevelt not only redefined the eras in which they lived but also shaped the country for decades to come, in some ways changing the very political fabric of the nation.
The family arrived in pre-independence America around 1649, when Dutch immigrant Claes Martenszen van Rosenvelt and his wife Jennetjke began life in New Amsterdam (later known as New York). Shortly after their arrival in the Americas, anglicized variations of the family surname began appearing, with their son Nicholas — born in 1658 — becoming among the first to bear the name “Roosevelt.” Nicholas also became the first Roosevelt to hold political office in the Americas, serving as an alderman in the West Ward of New York City from 1698 to 1701, and again in 1715. The political clout of the Roosevelt family ballooned from there, reaching new heights in the 20th century when both Teddy and FDR served as President, guiding the country through harrowing times. Meanwhile, FDR’s wife, Eleanor Roosevelt, broke barriers by carving out a new role for women in American society and politics, and spent her lifetime advocating for humanitarian issues. Here are seven facts about this uniquely influential family.
Theodore Roosevelt Witnessed Abraham Lincoln’s Funeral Procession
The assassination of Abraham Lincoln was one of the most shocking and profoundly impactful events in American history. While thousands of countrymen laid eyes on the fallen leader’s funeral procession, perhaps none proved to be more famous than Theodore Roosevelt. Just 6 years old at the time, young Roosevelt gazed down at Lincoln’s casket from the second story of his family’s home on Broadway in New York City. As the late President passed the Roosevelt mansion on April 25, 1865, a perfectly timed photograph captured the image of two young boys — Teddy and his brother Elliot — looking out from the window. Like Lincoln, Roosevelt was one of the most renowned Presidents in U.S. history, though their similarities didn’t end there. While on the campaign trail in 1912, Roosevelt was struck by the bullet of a would-be assassin, but he was miraculously saved when the projectile hit a folded speech that Teddy had tucked in his breast pocket.
It’s commonly known that Franklin and Theodore Roosevelt were related (the 26th and 32nd Presidents were fifth cousins), but FDR’s familial ties to American Presidents extend far beyond that one link. In fact, he’s related to a total of 11 Presidents by blood and marriage: John Adams, James Madison, John Quincy Adams, Martin Van Buren, William Henry Harrison, Zachary Taylor, Andrew Johnson, Ulysses S. Grant, Benjamin Harrison, William Howard Taft, and of course, Teddy. What’s more, FDR and his wife Eleanor were related as well, and not just by marriage. The pair were fifth cousins once removed, as Eleanor’s father, Elliott Roosevelt, was the brother of Theodore Roosevelt. The trio was so deeply intertwined that on Franklin and Eleanor’s wedding day, Teddy was the one to give Eleanor away in honor of his dearly departed sibling.
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Eleanor Roosevelt Held the First Press Conference by a First Lady
After her husband took office in 1933, Eleanor Roosevelt worked tirelessly not only to redefine the role of First Lady, but also to provide a voice for American women. Unlike most of her predecessors, she took an active role in the administration, and on March 6, 1933, she hosted the first official press conference conducted by a First Lady. What’s more, Roosevelt invited 35 female reporters to the press event. The successful women-only media summit wasn’t just a one-off, as the First Lady held 348 further press conferences over the next 12 years, helping to boost the voices of women in the American press. She also welcomed other notable women in politics to field questions at these events, including Secretary of Labor Frances Perkins — the first female Cabinet member — and foreign dignitaries such as Soong Mei-ling, the first lady of the Republic of China. Thanks to her efforts, Roosevelt laid the groundwork for future First Spouses to take on more active roles in governing the nation.
Teddy Was the First President to Win a Nobel Peace Prize
Four U.S. Presidents have taken home the Nobel Peace Prize, including Woodrow Wilson in 1920, Jimmy Carter in 2002, and Barack Obama in 2009. But it all began with President Theodore Roosevelt in 1906. Teddy was not only the first American President to earn the distinction, but also the first statesman of any kind to receive a Nobel honor. Roosevelt was awarded the accolade for his efforts in brokering peace during the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905, though his victory didn’t come without controversy. Critics derided the President as “military mad,” while others vocalized their displeasure with his imperialistic tendencies in the Philippines. Despite this, Roosevelt was granted the esteemed prize — just one of the historic “firsts” set by the Roosevelt family.
Franklin D. Roosevelt Unsuccessfully Ran for Vice President in 1920
Thanks to modern-day constitutional term limits, no individual has won, nor likely will ever win, more presidential elections than Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Though he’s known as a prolific commander in chief, FDR had significantly worse luck when it came to running for Vice President. During the 1920 election, Democratic candidate James M. Cox tapped Roosevelt — assistant secretary of the Navy, at the time — as his running mate against Warren G. Harding. (Incidentally, Harding campaigned on the promise of a “return to normalcy,” which rejected the activism-driven policies that became popular during the administration of Franklin’s cousin, Theodore.) While on the campaign trail, FDR was derided by critics for being too immature, and he and Cox ultimately suffered a staggering defeat at the polls. In the wake of this loss, FDR shied away from politics until successfully becoming governor of New York in 1929, and later President in 1933.
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FDR Was the First Sitting President to Fly in a Plane
January 11, 1943, was a major day in the world of aviation. Long before Air Force One performed its maiden voyage, FDR made history in 1943 as the first sitting President to fly aboard an aircraft. (Incidentally, the first former President to fly in a plane was Teddy in 1910.) Amid the turmoil of World War II, Roosevelt decided to travel to Morocco to meet with British leader Winston Churchill. Given that German submarine activity made boating through the Atlantic far too dangerous at the time, the President hopped on a Pan Am Boeing 314 flying boat and took off, unaware that this would soon become the U.S. President’s preferred travel method. The plane made several stops to refuel in Trinidad, Brazil, and The Gambia before FDR switched to a Douglas C-54 transport plane that ushered him to his destination in Casablanca. Two years later, a special bulletproof, wheelchair-accessible plane was constructed to usher FDR to the Yalta Conference to discuss the postwar reorganization of Europe, though that aircraft fell out of operation in 1947. The call sign Air Force One was first used just six years later in 1953, during Dwight D. Eisenhower’s administration.
FDR wasn’t the only Roosevelt to make history in the skies. Ten years before her husband set off on a flight across the Atlantic, Eleanor Roosevelt accompanied pioneering aviator Amelia Earhart during an impromptu excursion from Washington, D.C., to Baltimore and back. The decision to fly was a spur-of-the-moment event, after the pair attended a White House gala together on April 20, 1933. Clad in their formal wear, Earhart and Roosevelt departed the event and headed to nearby Hoover Field in Arlington, Virginia, where they hopped into a twin-engine Curtiss Condor plane. Though Earhart piloted the flight, Roosevelt — who had recently applied for a student pilot license — spent time sitting in the cockpit. Roosevelt ultimately gave up on her pursuit of a full-time pilot’s license, but her brief foray into the skies with one of history’s greatest aviators won’t soon be forgotten.
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Revealing Facts About 5 Celebrated Painters
Tony Vaccaro/ Archive Photos via Getty Images
AuthorBennett Kleinman
June 7, 2026
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Artists such as Pablo Picasso and Georgia O’Keeffe may be household names, but far more is known about the paintings they created than who they were as individuals. While the lives of these masters are undoubtedly intertwined with their most recognized brushstrokes, their interesting and complicated legacies extend well beyond the canvas. Here are five fascinating facts about some of the biggest names in the art world.
Pablo Picasso Was Accused of Stealing the “Mona Lisa”
Picasso is well known for his surrealist artworks, but the legendary Spanish painter also had a real surreal experience of his own in 1911. That year, on August 21, Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece the “Mona Lisa” vanished from Paris’ Louvre Museum, and Picasso was deemed a suspect. Though there was no direct evidence linking Picasso to the brazen heist, the accusations stemmed from the artist’s relationship with a known art thief named Honore-Joseph Géry Pieret.
Pieret was the former secretary of Picasso’s Paris housemate, Guillaume Apollinaire. In fact, four years before the “Mona Lisa” was stolen, Pieret nabbed two Iberian sculptures from the Louvre and sold them to Picasso; the artist even used one of the statues as the inspiration for a face in his 1907 painting “Les Demoiselles d’Avignon.” Upon learning that Pieret was a person of interest in the theft of the “Mona Lisa,” Picasso and Apollinaire planned to throw the stolen art that was in their possession into the river Seine, though ultimately they could not bring themselves to do so. Instead, Picasso was brought before a magistrate and lied, claiming he had never met Apollinaire. In the end, the case was thrown out and Picasso and Apollinaire were cleared two years later, when a handyman named Vincenzo Peruggia was caught attempting to sell the “Mona Lisa” to a Florentine art dealer.
Photo credit: Heritage Images/ Hulton Fine Art Collection via Getty Images
Vincent Van Gogh Sold Only One Known Painting During His Life
Though he’s now considered one of history’s most talented artists, the painter behind such masterpieces as “The Starry Night” and “Sunflowers” was far from a success during his lifetime. Van Gogh took up painting around age 27 and met his untimely demise just a decade later, and in the years between he sold only one painting that there is any record of, “The Red Vineyard.” The piece, a dramatic Provençal landscape with vibrant red, orange, and yellow colors, was sold for 400 Belgian francs (approximately $2,000 today) in the winter of 1890 at an exhibition in Brussels, just six months before the artist’s death.
While “The Red Vineyard” is Van Gogh’s only officially recorded sale, historians theorize that he possibly bartered other paintings, especially at an early age in exchange for art supplies. Van Gogh biographer Marc Edo Tralbaut has also suggested that the artist may have sold a self-portrait to London art dealers in 1888, though his theory has not been proved.
Photo credit: Tony Vaccaro/ Archive Photos via Getty Images
Georgia O’Keeffe Painted From the Backseat of Her Model-A Ford
Modernist artist Georgia O’Keeffe sought to be closely connected with the scenic New Mexican landscape that was the subject of many of her works. Part of maintaining that connection meant painting outdoors, though the area was known for its unrelenting heat and plentiful bee swarms. Undeterred, O’Keeffe came up with an idea that would protect her from the elements while she painted. During her first visit to New Mexico, she had purchased a custom Model-A Ford to explore the land with. It had detachable front seats, and she would remove the passenger seat and spin the driver’s seat around to face the back. This allowed her to set up a canvas on the back seat while sitting comfortably and using the car as protection from the sun and insects.
O’Keeffe was said to be a fearless driver by her friends, and she took her vehicle throughout the state and set up her mobile art studio wherever she found inspiration. She found opportunities to connect with nature outside of the car as well, often hiking and camping in the desert terrain and bundling up during the colder months so she could continue to paint. O’Keeffe was also known to paint from inside her bedroom window overlooking the Chama River Valley, maintaining that unbreakable connection with nature. The artist’s efforts to experience the world around her paid off, as she produced some 2,000 paintings, many of which centered around local flowers and majestic southwestern landscapes.
Salvador Dalí’s Mustache Is Reportedly Still Intact
Surrealist artist Salvador Dalí was the epitome of eccentricity. His avant-garde paintings redefined the art world, and his unconventional stunts — such as keeping an ocelot as a pet — only grew his legend. Though Dalí died in 1989 at the age of 84, his most striking physical feature, his mustache, is reportedly still intact. Few individuals wore as recognizable a mustache as Dalí. And according to Narcís Bardalet, the embalmer who tended to Dalí’s body after his death, the iconic facial hair was still in place when Bardalet exhumed the body in 2017 to collect DNA for a paternity claim. The facial hair was perfectly situated “[like clock hands at] 10 past 10, just as he liked it,” Bardalet observed. While still alive, Dalí was known to be proud of his distinctive handlebar mustache; he once claimed that he and French novelist Marcel Proust used the “same kind of pomade” for their curls. The mustache was even the subject of a book, 1954’s Dali’s Mustache: A Photographic Interview, which the artist himself co-authored with photographer Philippe Halsman. The book features their interview alongside 28 images of Dalí’s unique and seemingly immortal facial hair.
Frida Kahlo Took Up Painting After a Tragic Bus Accident
Mexican artist Frida Kahlo was on her way to becoming not a painter but a doctor when tragedy struck on September 17, 1925. During a bus ride, Kahlo was crushed in a terrifying and near-fatal accident that left her confined to a bed for many months after. No longer able to pursue her medical dreams, Kahlo turned to painting to cope with the loneliness of her recovery, discovering a new passion that saw her become one of the most celebrated painters in history.
Kahlo’s accident and recovery not only forced her to shift career trajectories, but also left her with deep and complex emotions that she conveyed through her art. It was a rarity at the time for female artists to be so open and expressive about their inner worlds, but Kahlo’s works defied those barriers. The trauma that she endured in the wake of the accident came through in paintings such as 1929’s “The Bus,” which captures a seemingly innocuous moment just before the fateful accident. In 1944, she painted the macabre piece “The Broken Column,” showing a leatherback brace that she wore for many years even after her initial recovery. Throughout the rest of her career, Kahlo never shied away from expressing her true self in her paintings, no matter how honest and dark the subject matter.
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What Everyday Life Was Like in Ancient Rome
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AuthorAdam Levine
June 7, 2026
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Ancient Roman history is usually dominated by larger-than-life rulers such as Julius Caesar and eloquent senators such as Cicero. However, these men led an empire of millions of everyday citizens who were usually less concerned with conquering the world than they were with putting bread on the table and simply enjoying life. A look at the lives of typical Roman citizens reveals a culture that in many fundamental ways is not so different from ours; the ancient Romans worked, played, socialized, and expressed themselves — albeit often quite rudely. Here are six facts that offer a glimpse of what it was like to be an average citizen in one of the world’s largest and most influential empires.
No Matter Where You Went, You Could Always Find a Public Bath
The Romans were masterful architects of public baths, called thermae. These were complex facilities with elaborate heating systems where Romans from all walks of life came together to relax, socialize, and of course, get clean. Bathing in the Roman thermae wasn’t just a simple dip in the water — there was a whole process involved. A visitor would begin by doing some light exercise followed by a hot bath, then a warm bath, and then a cold bath; they could also spend time in a steam room or get a massage. Public baths were a central part of Roman culture, and some citizens even considered them a symbol of Roman identity. In fact, baths were such an essential component of daily life that they were built in nearly every part of the Roman Empire, even in its most remote regions. Roman thermae could be found as far north as the British Isles and as far south as Egypt.
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The Empire’s Cities Were Filled With Graffiti
Archaeological evidence from well-preserved ancient Roman cities such as Pompeii and Herculaneum reveals that, much like people in modern society, the denizens of ancient Rome liked to express themselves through some good old-fashioned graffiti. Since the ancient Romans lived a few millennia before the invention of spray paint, they had to make do by scratching and carving their designs and messages into plaster surfaces around the empire’s cities. Graffiti carved by everyday Romans can be found on the walls of bars, public baths, and other places where people commonly went to socialize. Ancient Roman street art ranged from simple drawings of stick figures and animals to colorful, R-rated jokes and insults. While some of the more famous Romans, such as emperors and statesmen, were commemorated through huge monuments and stately statues, graffiti was often a common person’s best shot at leaving their mark on the world, and many ancient graffiti artists included their names in the messages they left, to be remembered by future generations — even if it was just for a rude boast or scatological joke.
Photo credit: Heritage Images/ Hulton Fine Art Collection via Getty Images
The Roman Workday Ended at Noon
The ancient Romans didn’t have clocks they could use to count the hours of the day. Instead, they kept track of the time using the position of the sun, and employed devices such as sundials to divide the day and night into 12 evenly spaced units called “hora” (hours). Since tracking the sun was the Roman citizen’s principal timekeeping method, the workday was structured around solar positions that were easy to measure with the naked eye, such as sunrise, noon, and sunset. For this reason, a typical citizen would usually start their workday at dawn, which marked the first “hora” of the day, and stop working at noon. This left the rest of the afternoon open for leisure, and citizens from all levels of Roman society would spend that time attending sporting events, theatrical performances, and the all-important public baths.
A love of gambling extended to all levels of ancient Roman society. Less-wealthy citizens would place bets on a wide variety of board games and dice games, which they played in taverns, city streets, and other public spaces, while the rich would build private gaming rooms in their homes. Romans would also frequently bet on the outcomes of gladiator fights and chariot races. (For the most part, only men were permitted to gamble, though women were allowed to participate in games of chance during special festivals.) Even the Roman emperors got in on the action. Rulers such as Augustus and Nero were known for their gaming habits, and for betting small fortunes on a single throw of the dice. Roman Emperor Claudius even had a custom-made carriage built with a gaming table so that he could gamble while traveling.
With its location right in the middle of the city, the Roman Forum was quite literally the center of everyday life in ancient times. It was where the typical Roman citizen could shop, talk, and find entertainment. It was also the site of most of the city’s public gatherings, the Roman courts of law, and the meeting place of the Roman Senate. What’s more, the forum housed some of Rome’s most important religious sites, including multiple temples dedicated to Roman deities. In other words, if you were a Roman citizen, chances were good that you’d be making frequent visits to the forum for everything from daily errands to grand citywide ceremonies.
There Was a Temple Where Citizens Could Go to Worship Caesar
One prominent temple in the Roman Forum was dedicated not to the worship of a mythological god, but to the former dictator of Rome, Julius Caesar. During the funeral games held in Caesar’s honor shortly after his assassination in 44 BCE, a comet appeared in the sky for seven days, which the Roman populace interpreted as a divine omen that Caesar’s soul had ascended to the status of divinity. This popular belief that Caesar had become a god was codified into law two years later in 42 BCE, when the Roman Senate officially declared him a deity. After this, a temple was built in the forum in Caesar’s honor. It even had an altar where Roman citizens would offer sacrifices to the deified leader, just as they would to supernatural Roman gods such as Jupiter and Saturn.
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Are These 6 Famous Nursery Rhymes Actually About Death?
Children’s rhymes are built to lodge themselves in the brain. Their rhythms, repetition, and playful nonsense are thought to help kids learn language, which could be why many adults can still recite nursery rhymes they haven’t heard in decades.
But alongside the familiar verses lies another enduring tradition: the belief that many nursery rhymes are secretly about something much darker, whether it’s the plague, religious executions, or blood-soaked rulers. The internet, in particular, has often encouraged stories around these darker origins. However, folklorists caution that many of these explanations emerged far more recently than the rhymes themselves, and most are sorely lacking in evidence.
That doesn’t mean nursery rhymes are entirely innocent. Most are centuries old, and they came from a world where death, disease, public executions, and child mortality were far more visible parts of everyday life than they are today. Some dark interpretations are probably modern myths — but others may contain at least a grain of historical truth. Take a look at the fascinating origins of six popular nursery rhymes.
Ring around the rosie A pocket full of posies Ashes, ashes We all fall down
Few nursery rhymes have inspired more grim speculation than “Ring Around the Rosie.” According to popular belief, the rhyme is a coded reference to the bubonic plague: The ring is a red rash, the posies are flowers or herbs carried to ward off disease, and “we all fall down” means everyone dies.
It’s a memorably macabre explanation, but folklorists universally reject it. One major problem is timing. The rhyme itself was not recorded in print until the late 19th century, centuries after both the Black Death of the mid-1300s and London’s Great Plague of 1665. And scholars can find no evidence linking the rhyme to disease before the mid-20th century. It’s extremely unlikely that children would have been singing a song about the plague for centuries after the events without anybody noting it.
Versions of the rhyme also vary wildly. Some mention sneezing (“a-tishoo”), while others don’t. Some include “ashes,” while others add a “little Moses” or “a little Josie,” and still others have entirely different lyrics. In many versions, the children pop right back up after falling down — not exactly a convincing metaphor for mass death. Instead, folklorists generally classify the rhyme as a children’s singing game involving dancing in a circle, crouching, curtseying, falling dramatically, or all of the above. Similar ring dances appear across Europe, with no connection to plague at all.
Nevertheless, the plague theory has become so widespread that even some experts seem exhausted by it. In the 1980s, the famed nursery rhyme folklorists Iona and Peter Opie, a married couple, wrote, “We ourselves have had to listen so often to this interpretation we are reluctant to go out of the house.”
London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady
Unlike most supposedly sinister nursery rhymes, “London Bridge Is Falling Down” may contain a genuine echo of something ancient and unsettling. Early versions of the rhyme include additional verses proposing ways to rebuild the bridge — wood and clay, bricks and mortar, iron and steel, even silver and gold — before finally suggesting a different solution entirely: “Set a man to watch all night.” Some versions also mention an imprisoned person.
That last detail has long fascinated folklorists because stories about human sacrifices connected to bridges appear across Europe. According to old legends, bridges, walls, and gates sometimes required a living person (often a child) to be immured within the foundations so their spirit could guard the structure from a collapse brought on by angry river gods (or, in later versions, the devil himself). Iona and Peter Opie argued that “London Bridge” was unusual, calling it “one of the few [nursery rhymes], perhaps the only one, in which there is justification for suggesting that it preserves the memory of a dark and terrible rite of past times.”
To be clear, that doesn’t mean historians think medieval Londoners routinely imprisoned children inside bridges. Direct evidence connecting the rhyme to an actual sacrifice at London Bridge is lacking. Still, similar bridge legends appear from Germany to Greece, and stories of foundation sacrifices persisted well into the modern era. So, it’s entirely possible that the song does indeed have dark origins.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall Humpty Dumpty had a great fall All the king’s horses And all the king’s men Couldn’t put Humpty together again
Despite what you may read on the internet, “Humpty Dumpty” almost certainly does not conceal a tale about the English Civil War. One popular theory claims Humpty Dumpty was a massive cannon used by royalists that was toppled from a wall during the Siege of Colchester in 1648. Another says it was a siege engine (a device used to destroy heavy fortifications) employed during the Siege of Gloucester. Historians and folklorists generally dismiss both stories because there’s simply no evidence connecting the rhyme to either event.
The simpler explanation is also the oldest one: “Humpty Dumpty” was originally written as a “What am I?” riddle, and the answer was an egg. Early sources explicitly describe it that way, though modern readers often miss the joke because illustrations — especially after Lewis Carroll’s 1871 novel Through the Looking-Glass — turned Humpty Dumpty into an anthropomorphic egg. As folklorists Steve Roud and Jacqueline Simpson point out, generations of children’s books obscured the fact that listeners were originally supposed to guess the answer.
Once you know it’s a riddle, the strange details make more sense. The rhyme never actually says Humpty Dumpty is an egg — because riddles aren’t supposed to give away their solution. And the line “all the king’s horses and all the king’s men” doesn’t necessarily suggest a battlefield; it simply emphasizes that a broken egg is impossible to put back together again.
Who killed Cock Robin? “I,” said the Sparrow, “With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin.”
Unlike many nursery rhymes, “Who Killed Cock Robin?” wears its darkness openly. The rhyme unfolds as a miniature murder mystery and funeral procession, complete with blood, burial, and grieving birds. First printed in the mid-18th century, it quickly became hugely popular in chapbooks (small, inexpensive books that were popular at the time) under titles like The Death and Burial of Cock Robin.
Some scholars have suggested the rhyme may contain political satire. One theory links “Cock Robin” to the downfall of British statesman Robert Walpole, whose long political dominance ended just a few years before the rhyme first appeared in print. Others have argued the rhyme may be much older than its surviving texts suggest, possibly preserving fragments of older myths — including stories surrounding the death of the Norse god Balder. But the evidence for either theory is thin.
Most likely, the rhyme belongs to a broader tradition of mock funerals, animal ballads, and playful death imagery that was common in Victorian-era children’s culture. Still, compared with many nursery-rhyme conspiracy theories, the darker interpretations of “Cock Robin” are at least intriguing enough that folklorists continue to debate them.
Jack and Jill went up the hill To fetch a pail of water Jack fell down and broke his crown And Jill came tumbling after
One of the most enduring explanations for “Jack and Jill” comes from the village of Kilmersdon in Somerset, England, where locals have long claimed the rhyme was inspired by a real couple. According to the story, Jack and Jill climbed a nearby hill to fetch water when Jack was struck by a falling rock from a quarry and killed. In some versions, Jill later dies in childbirth, leaving behind a son raised by the village. Today, Kilmersdon still has a “Jack and Jill Hill” and a plaque commemorating the tale.
But other, stranger theories exist. Some writers have connected the rhyme to Norse mythology, arguing that Jack and Jill resemble Hjúki and Bil, figures who carried a pail of water and were associated with the moon. Others have linked the rhyme to the French Revolution — despite the awkward fact that the rhyme was already in print decades before Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette lost their heads.
Another explanation is much less romantic. In the 17th century, English rulers adjusted the size of liquid measures known as “jacks” and “gills” as part of alcohol tax policy. According to this theory, when the jack measure was reduced, the gill followed suit and “came tumbling after.” It’s probably the most prosaic interpretation of the rhyme — but also one of the more historically plausible.
Mary, Mary, quite contrary How does your garden grow? With silver bells and cockle shells And pretty maids all in a row.
“Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary” has inspired some of the grimmest nursery-rhyme theories of all. One popular interpretation claims the rhyme refers to Queen Mary I — better known as “Bloody Mary” — whose reign was marked by the execution of hundreds of Protestants. In this reading, the garden is England itself, while the silver bells and cockle shells are supposedly instruments of torture.
Others have connected the rhyme (less gruesomely) to Mary, Queen of Scots, arguing that the “pretty maids all in a row” are her famous ladies-in-waiting, the “Four Marys.” Some versions even claim the cockle shells were decorations on a dress gifted to her by the French Dauphin.
Folklorists, however, remain unconvinced by all of these explanations. As Iona and Peter Opie noted, the various interpretations mostly amount to “happy guessers” trying to force hidden meanings onto a rhyme that wasn’t even recorded until the 18th century. Like many nursery rhymes, “Mary, Mary” may ultimately tell us less about Tudor queens and more about our enduring desire to find secret histories hiding inside simple verses.
Today, when a child goes missing, word spreads quickly through broadcast and digital networks that can reach millions within minutes. But just a few decades ago, there wasn’t a system like that in place. Missing children cases were typically treated as isolated incidents and not urgent public issues.
Then, in the 1980s, efforts to raise awareness about missing children began to take shape in America in an unexpected way. For a brief period, photographs of missing people were printed on milk cartons, turning an everyday household item into a public alert system. The practice was short-lived, but it helped lay the foundation for the systems used today. So, why did images of missing kids end up on milk cartons in the first place, and why did they stop?
In the late 1970s and early 1980s, public concern about missing children shifted in the United States. The disappearance of 12-year-old Etan Patz in New York City in 1979 was a major turning point, garnering prolific media attention and inspiring grassroots search efforts. But it wasn’t until a few years later, in the Midwest, that the idea of getting information about missing children out to the public took hold in a very specific way.
In the early morning hours of September 5, 1982, 12-year-old Johnny Gosch disappeared in Des Moines, Iowa, while delivering newspapers for the Des Moines Register. Nearly two years later, in August 1984, 13-year-old Eugene Martin vanished under eerily similar circumstances while working his own paper route in the city. Both cases rattled the community and drew national attention, not only because of the similarities between them, but also because they challenged a deeply held assumption that such crimes were rare and distant — something that happened elsewhere, not in quiet, wholesome Midwestern neighborhoods.
The Register swiftly began printing photos of the missing boys and information about their disappearances. Editor-in-chief James P. Gannon also solicited support from President Ronald Reagan in spreading fliers featuring their faces, both locally and in post offices around the country. Within weeks, local Iowa dairy farmers got involved, too. Anderson Erickson Dairy was the first to print photos and short bios of Gosch and Martin on the sides of half-gallon milk cartons sold locally in September 1984.
The milk carton campaign began naturally from both the moment and the place. The disappearances had deeply shaken Iowa communities, and local dairies happened to control one of the most common household products in America. Milk cartons passed through millions of homes every week, sitting on breakfast tables and refrigerator shelves; families saw them again and again, making them a logical choice for spreading information to the public.
Shortly after Anderson Erickson Dairy’s initiative, another Des Moines company started printing photos and bios of missing children. By December 1984, with the help of the National Child Safety Council, the program had gone national, implemented by over 700 independent dairies across the U.S. According to the NCSC, the images and biographies of missing people eventually appeared on hundreds of millions of milk cartons.
Milk cartons became the most recognizable version of the campaign, but they weren’t the only items used. Throughout the mid- to late 1980s, missing children also appeared on pizza boxes, grocery bags, buses, and direct-mail advertisements.
But the campaign didn’t last very long. By the late 1980s, critics — including pediatrician and author Dr. Benjamin Spock, one of the most popular parenting experts at the time — began raising concerns that the images were scaring young kids more than they were helping investigations. Others questioned how effective the cartons really were. Although the NCSC said in April 1985 that reported sightings of missing children had increased by more than 30%, the program resulted in very few solved cases. Sadly, the two missing boys who inspired the campaign — Johnny Gosch and Eugene Martin — were never found.
The milk carton campaign faded by the late 1980s, replaced over time by more coordinated systems such as national databases and Amber Alerts. Still, it left a lasting imprint on how missing children cases are handled. The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children says printing photos of missing people on milk cartons was foundational to the mass distribution of the missing child posters in use today.
There’s a particular kind of nostalgia attached to school memories, from the ring of a bell announcing the start and end of the day to the scrape of chalk on slate and the smell of pencil shavings. For those who grew up in the 1960s and ’70s, those memories already feel like a different world compared with the computers and smart boards of contemporary classrooms. But go back to the 1920s, and school looks almost unrecognizable.
A century ago, education in the United States depended heavily on where you lived. Children in rural areas often learned in one-room schoolhouses scattered across farmland and small towns, while urban students filled increasingly crowded classrooms in fast-growing cities shaped by immigration, industrial labor, and reform movements trying to keep pace with it all.
But it wasn’t just the setting that was different: The education system was far more intertwined with the demands of everyday life than it is today. Here’s a look at a day in the life of a typical American student a century ago.
The school day in the early 20th century rarely began or ended with the kind of timing we expect now, and daily life often determined whether a child was in school at all. In 1910, only 59% of children ages 5 to 19 attended school, according to the National Center for Education Statistics.
In rural areas, mornings started long before lessons, with children responsible for milking cows, collecting eggs, chopping wood, and hauling water. Only after chores were finished would children walk, sometimes for miles, to reach a one-room schoolhouse, which was the standard at the time. Attendance shifted with the seasons, and planting or harvest could empty classrooms for days or weeks at a time.
In cities, the rhythm was similarly shaped by economic necessity. Many children lived in crowded tenements and worked part-time jobs in factories, in shops, or selling newspapers on street corners. Truancy laws and compulsory education began expanding at the turn of the 20th century, but enforcement often collided with the realities of working-class life. As a result, start times were early, days were long, and breaks were short — reflecting a system still evolving toward the standardized school schedules we now take for granted.
Whether rural or urban, classrooms in the 1920s shared a defining feature: They were crowded, multipurpose spaces.In both rural and urban settings, individualized learning wasn’t at all common. Instead, teachers had to manage a collective group with limited time, materials, and attention. Segregation was also a reality of American education in this era, with many schools, particularly in the South, still separated by race, creating deeply unequal learning conditions in school.
In rural areas, the typical one-room schoolhouse brought together children of all ages in a single space, where one teacher taught every subject — reading, arithmetic, geography, history — across as many as eight grade levels at once. Students were grouped by ability rather than age, and older children often helped younger ones to keep the classroom functioning day to day.
In cities, classrooms could hold dozens of students, who were sometimes split into half-day shifts to accommodate overcrowding in rapidly growing neighborhoods. Multistory school buildings were becoming more common, shaped by Progressive era reforms, and students were separated by grade level.
While modern education often emphasizes interpretation and critical thinking, the 1920s leaned heavily on memorization and recitation. Students were expected to master arithmetic tables, spelling lists, historical dates, and literary passages by heart, often repeating them aloud until they could be delivered on demand. Standing at the front of the room to recite a lesson was a regular ritual, and clear, confident elocution was an important component in determining success.
Instruction was based on a limited number of textbooks that were reused year after year. Copying passages by hand, drilling lessons repeatedly, and memorizing large blocks of information were central to how knowledge was acquired. At the same time, education carried a strong moral and civic layer, with readers and textbooks emphasizing character, obedience, patriotism, and work ethic — influencing not only what children learned but also how they were expected to behave in the world.
Classroom discipline in the 1920s was generally strict, immediate, and rarely questioned. There was little uncertainty about what was expected, and behaviors such as talking out of turn or incomplete work were met with swift consequences that could include standing in corners, writing lines, or, in some cases, corporal punishment that would be considered severe by today’s standards.
The rules were rigid and consistently enforced, a reflection of the pressure placed on teachers to maintain order. Order was a foundational principle of schooling itself, shaping the structure of daily life in the classroom. Individualism and independence were not considered traits to be cultivated in the modern sense. Instead, obedience, cooperation, and conformity within the group were expected.
Lunch in the 1920s was simple across both rural and urban settings. Typically carried from home in tin pails or wrapped in cloth, meals might have included sandwiches, fruit, biscuits, or leftovers from the night before, as cafeterias were rare and refrigeration was limited or nonexistent. The idea of school-provided meals had only just emerged at the end of the 19th century.
Recess, when offered, was brief and largely unstructured, and children played outside in all weather conditions. Games were invented on the spot, shaped by whatever space or materials were available, and physical activity was woven into daily life rather than organized as a formal subject. In cities, health education began to take hold through public campaigns promoting hygiene and disease prevention, reflecting broader Progressive era efforts to improve child welfare.
The differences between school in the 1920s and school today are significant across nearly every dimension, from structure to curriculum, discipline, and daily experience. Education was shaped by local necessity, economic pressure, and limited resources rather than national standardization or individualized instruction. These limitations resulted in classrooms that were often larger, more rigid, and more dependent on repetition and collective instruction.
And yet, school has always been a place where children learn how to exist in a shared world, follow structure, form relationships, meet expectations, and gradually grow into life beyond the home. The tools have changed and the expectations have evolved, but the experience of being a child in school — figuring out where you fit and how to move within a structured environment — carries a steady thread across the decades.
The ancient Romans rank among history’s greatest engineers. They built aqueducts that carried fresh water across many miles, roads that are still visible 2,000 years later, and sewage systems that helped keep the city clean. Having borrowed and improved upon techniques from the Greeks and the Etruscans, the Romans became the most sophisticated builders of their time.
That said, any admiration you might have for Roman ingenuity could be tested when you learn what historians think they used instead of toilet paper. Here we take a perilous dive into the world of Roman public latrines, and what our ancient ancestors used in lieu of modern TP.
The oldest known recorded use of paper for bathroom hygiene purposes dates back to China in the sixth century CE. But for most of recorded history, people around the world used whatever they could find, whether it be rags, grass, moss, or even corncobs. And when some kind of material wasn’t available, people could just wash with water, either from a bucket or a natural source such as a river or stream. The Romans, however, came up with a different solution — and it didn’t involve anything as prosaic as rags or paper.
According to many historians, the Romans’ answer to the rear hygiene question was the tersorium, also known by the Greek-derived term xylospongium. This was basically a sponge on a stick. They attached a sea sponge from the Mediterranean to the end of a wooden rod, similar to the back-washers sold in drugstores today.
It’s not a terrible idea — the sponge is absorbent and the rod gives extra reach. But here’s where things get a little sticky: The tersorium may have been for communal use.
Not everyone in Rome would have carried around their own sponge on a stick — so public latrines at bathhouses and other public spaces (the Colosseum, for example) would have had a shared tersorium that was rinsed between uses, normally by placing it into the channel of water that ran through the latrine, and perhaps also by dipping it into a bucket of water with added salt or vinegar.
Historical sources are vague when it comes to the tersorium — it seems that few Romans found it noteworthy enough to warrant a weighty text or treatise. This has caused some modern scholars to question the actual purpose of the tool. We know it was found in most public latrines, but was it used for the cleaning of numerous behinds or simply for scrubbing the latrine itself, much like a modern toilet brush?
The greatest proponent of the latter theory is Austrian archaeologist Gilbert Wiplinger. He argues that the popular idea that Romans used the tersorium to clean their behinds is incorrect. Having reviewed ancient textual sources, including Seneca and Martial, he notes that none of them clearly describes the sponge-on-a-stick being used for personal hygiene, and that a more logical — not to mention less gross — explanation would be its use as a toilet brush.
So if the Romans didn’t clean themselves with the tersorium, what did they use? Having examined scraps of cloth in an ancient septic tank in Herculaneum (an ancient city preserved in Campania, Italy), environmental archaeologist Mark Robinson concluded that fabric scraps were likely used instead of a sponge. Another option was to use pottery shards, known as pessoi (Greek for “pebbles”). This may sound almost as bad as using a shared sponge, but these pottery pieces — which were readily available in ancient Rome — were specially selected, with smooth edges.
The Romans likely had options when it came to bathroom hygiene — but whether that was in the form of a shared sponge-on-a-stick, scraps of fabric, shards of pottery, or a combination of all three (or more), it’s hard to know for certain. What we can say for sure is this: We should all be very grateful for toilet rolls and bidets.
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5 Facts About the World’s Oldest Countries
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AuthorBennett Kleinman
May 31, 2026
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While some modern countries are little more than a decade old, others boast a rich history dating back thousands of years. Long before nations such as Iran and Egypt became the independent states we know them as today, early governments were formed by ancient civilizations in those regions, laying the foundation for thousands of years of expansion and development.
It can be a challenge to determine the exact age of any given country, but based on the current archaeological data, there are several nations in the Middle East and Asia that consistently rank among the oldest in human history. Here are five facts about some of the world’s oldest countries.
The First Architect Known by Name Lived in Ancient Egypt
Though the Great Pyramids of Giza are the most famous ancient Egyptian landmarks, the region is home to an even older structure. The Pyramid of Djoser — built in the mid-27th century BCE — predates the Great Pyramids by roughly a century, and was designed by a man named Imhotep, who is considered to be one of human civilization’s first architects. Imhotep not only conceived of this groundbreaking pyramidal structure, but also gets credit for using columns before anyone else and revolutionizing the use of stone in building construction. He also offered vast contributions to the world of medicine, writing texts describing the early diagnosis and treatment of many ailments. In 525 BCE, centuries after his death, Imhotep even rose to the status of full deity, being dubbed the Egyptian god of science, medicine, and architecture.
Two Vietnamese Sisters Led a Successful Revolt Against China
According to Vietnamese legend, the origins of Vietnam date back to around the year 2879 BCE, which marked the beginning of the Hồng Bàng dynasty — the first recorded dynasty in the nation’s history. For millennia, the Vietnamese people ruled over their own territory, which was invaded by members of China’s Han dynasty in 111 BCE. After a century of Chinese control, two women rose up to push back against their Chinese invaders, earning the status of national heroes in the process. The Trưng sisters — Trưng Trắc and Trưng Nhị — mobilized locals in an effort to avenge the death of the former’s husband, who had been executed by Chinese forces without trial. This newly formed army consisted of around 80,000 soldiers and 36 female generals. The forces rebelled against the Chinese in the year 39 CE, successfully driving the invaders out of the country. Though the sisters’ reign over the region was brief, as China recaptured the territory in 43 CE, the legend of their exploits and tragic fate only grew from there. Temples were dedicated in their honor throughout Vietnam, as people prayed to them for rain in times of drought. They remain important figures in Vietnamese history two millennia later.
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Armenia Was the First Country to Adopt Christianity as an Official Religion
Though modern-day Armenia did not achieve lasting independence until 1991, the country’s origins date back to around the year 2492 BCE according to Armenian mythology. In that year, an ancient Armenian warrior known as Hayk is believed to have defeated invading forces led by a Mesopotamia leader called Bel, which in turn saw what now encompasses modern-day Armenia fall under Hayk’s dominion. Many centuries later, Armenia made history by becoming the first country to adopt Christianity as its official state religion. Around the year 300 CE, an apostle named St. Gregory the Illuminator converted King Tiridates III of Armenia to Christianity, and it was made the official state religion in 301 CE. The newly formed Armenian Apostolic Church subverted the pagan ideology that once existed throughout the region, and it eventually became the country’s national church.
The First Recorded War Took Place in Present-Day Iran
The ancient kingdom of Elam, located in the southern region of modern-day Iran, contained settlements dating as far back as 7200 BCE. Millennia later, around the year 3200 BCE, the Proto-Elamite period began, marking the start of organized civilization throughout the region. Though few specifics are known about these early societies, what is known is that the region was the site of the first recorded war in human history. Around 2700 BCE, the Sumerian King Enmebaragesi led an attack against the Elamites, ultimately emerging victorious. Though there may have been conflicts before this, the battle — for which details are sparse — marks the earliest recorded account of a long-distance military campaign between opposing independent states.
The Oldest Surviving Anatomical Atlas Originated in China
In 1973, a seminal 2,200-year-old atlas of human anatomy written on ancient silk was discovered in south-central China, dating to the time of the Han dynasty (206 BCE to 220 CE) — making it the oldest surviving anatomical atlas ever discovered. Known as the Mawangdui medical manuscripts, these texts describe various “meridians” found throughout the human body, a term used to refer to arteries, blood vessels, and other internal elements. The Mawangdui texts also predate many other ancient Chinese texts related to acupuncture, suggesting that these early anatomical findings may have heavily influenced the science of acupuncture in the region. The artifact was uncovered in the tomb of a Han dynasty aristocrat named Xin Zhui (also known as Lady Dai), who was buried alongside copies of the medical texts in 168 BCE.
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5 Ways Albert Einstein Changed the World
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AuthorDarren Orf
May 31, 2026
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German-born physicist Albert Einstein (1879-1955) was so influential, his very name has become synonymous with genius. While working as a patent clerk in 1905 at the age of 26, Einstein submitted four papers to the German journal Annalen der Physik that changed humanity’s perception of time, gravity, and light. Today, historians mark the year as Einstein’s annus mirabilis, or “miracle year” — and he was just getting started.
Much of Einstein’s work is famously dense. Few people other than physicistsneed to fully comprehend the mind-bending ideas behind the general theory of relativity and Einstein’s other theories, but these discoveries form the bedrock of technologies the rest of us enjoy every day. Here are five ways Einstein’s ideas changed the world, and continue to provide a roadmap for humanity’s future.
GPS Would Be Impossible Without the General Theory of Relativity
Some 10,900 nautical miles above our heads, 31 satellites orbit Earth as part of the Global Positioning System (GPS) — but if it wasn’t for Einstein, those satellites would be little more than space junk. The very foundation of GPS is accurate timekeeping, as satellites need to keep time to correctly log the distance from a ground-based receiver (such as your smartphone). GPS satellites are so precise, the atomic clocks on board are accurate to within three-billionths of a second, a feat impossible without Einstein’s special and general theories of relativity. The special theory of relativity states that time flows differently depending on velocity. Because satellites travel at 8,700 miles per hour, they “lose” 7 microseconds per day compared to Earth-based receivers. Additionally, Einstein’s general theory of relativity — an idea published in 1915 that basically elaborates on his previous theory by throwing gravity in the mix — similarly states that distance from a source of mass, in this case the Earth, also affects the flow of time. This means that technically speaking, your head ages slightly faster than your feet because your feet are closer to the Earth (on time scales that are ultimately negligible). Today, GPS takes into account this “time dilation,” so satellites always know where you are when you open Google Maps.
The Explanation of Photoelectric Effect Helped Make Modern Solar Power Possible
It probably comes as no surprise that Einstein won the Nobel Prize for physics in 1921, but what many people don’t realize is that the award wasn’t honoring the wunderkind’s groundbreaking general theory of relativity, but rather his revolutionary yet often overlooked explanation of the photoelectric effect. The initial discovery of the photoelectric effect came in 1887 from German physicist Heinrich Rudolf Hertz (yes, that Hertz), who noticed that when ultraviolet light hit a metal plate, it created sparks. What was puzzling was that different metals required different frequencies to produce the same effect. Then, in 1905, 26-year-old Einstein solved this conundrum by introducing a new conception of light, which he published in his first paper submitted to Annalen der Physik. He argued that light wasn’t just a wave, as some scientists suggested, but also a stream of particles, later known to science as “photons.” Einstein posited that these photons contained a fixed amount of energy depending on their frequency, and his theory — though derided for years — successfully explained the photoelectric phenomenon. Though solar cells predated Einstein’s discovery by dozens of years, it wasn’t until Einstein’s theory that scientists understood why they worked, which helped make solar panels even more efficient.
Lasers Were Developed Thanks to Einstein’s Quantum Theory of Radiation
Lasers (an acronym for “Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation”) scan your groceries at the supermarket, make self-driving cars possible, and form the backbone of optical communication. And yes, we can thank Einstein for this one, too. In 1917, Einstein published a paper detailing his quantum theory of radiation. The theory basically states that atoms can be stimulated to change energy levels when hit with a specific frequency. If that excited atom is hit with another photon of the same frequency, it’ll produce two coherent photons (traveling in the same direction) while the atom’s electron returns to its ground state. This means you can artificially create a sudden burst of coherent light as atoms discharge in a chain reaction, otherwise known as “stimulated emission of radiation” (the “ser” in “laser”). It wasn’t until after World War II that scientists found a use for Einstein’s discovery; the laser was developed by using mirrors to create light amplification.
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The E=MC2 Equation Formed the Scientific Basis for the Nuclear Bomb
The final discovery of Einstein’s “miracle year” was the concept that light and energy are equivalent, and that their relationship can be explained with the elegantly simple equation E=MC2, meaning energy equals mass times the speed of light squared. Describing mass as essentially super-dense energy, Einstein’s equation shows how even small amounts of mass at atomic levels can produce a tremendous amount of energy when multiplied by the speed of light squared — and you probably see where this is going.
This process explains how a neutron fired from a uranium atom splits it into smaller atoms while releasing a tremendous amount of energy. It’s known as nuclear fission, and when the process is controlled, it provides low-emission nuclear energy. When released in an uncontrolled state, it can be used to produce an atomic bomb. Einstein himself never worked on the Manhattan Project, the secret government program to make the first nuclear bomb, but he rubber-stamped the idea in a 1939 letter to Franklin D. Roosevelt that argued for the U.S. to make the bomb before Nazi Germany. Einstein later regarded that letter as the “one great mistake in my life.”
The E=MC2 Equation Could Point to the Future of Energy
As previously described, nuclear fission works by breaking apart an element such as a heavy uranium-235 atom into two smaller atoms (krypton and barium). However, something interesting also occurs: If two light nuclei (i.e., hydrogen) can overcome electrostatic repulsion, theyfuse together to form a heavy helium-4 atom — sort of like fission but in reverse. Similarly, following the E=MC2 equation, this process produces a tremendous amount of energy and heat. This is known as nuclear fusion, and it’s the atomic science that is the energy-producing engine of stars.
On paper, nuclear fusion could provide the answer to humanity’s expanding energy needs. There’s no enriched material involved; nuclear proliferation with fusion reactors isn’t a worry; a meltdown is scientifically impossible; there’s no radioactive material produced as a byproduct; it’s completely carbon-free; and fusing atoms together releases 4 million times more energy than the chemical process of burning coal. There’s just one catch: Building a fusion reactor is immensely complicated. That’s never stopped people before, though. An international coalition of scientists and agencies is hard at work creating the International Thermonuclear Experimental Reactor, or ITER, which is set to go online in 2025.
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