The world’s most beautiful libraries

A new book celebrates some of the world’s most beautiful libraries, with many of its entries in Europe. Cameron Laux looks at how they have carried knowledge through the ages, surviving 10th-Century raids – and looting by a 21st-Century crime ring.

Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana (The Vatican Library), Rome, Italy

The Vatican Library has its roots in the 4th Century CE, although in its current form it was established in the 15th Century. In the 16th Century Pope Sixtus V commissioned the architect Domenico Fontana to create new buildings to house the Vatican collections, and these are still used today. The decoration is so dizzyingly luxurious that it suggests a sort of fractal geometry.

Like most of the vast Vatican complex, the library is a display of the spiritual and temporal influence that has allowed the Vatican to constitute itself as a sovereign state. In addition to documents spanning much of human history, the library possesses the oldest known manuscript of the Bible. When the librarian shushes you, you might want to listen: he has the rank of cardinal.

Stiftsbibliothek Kremsmünster (Kremsmünster Abbey Library), Austria

Kremsmünster Abbey was founded in 777 CE and its library holdings include the Codex Millenarius, a famous 8th-Century manuscript of the Christian Gospels that depicts Saint Luke as a flying ox (Matthew, Mark, and John are a winged man, lion, and eagle respectively). Except for a raid in the 10th Century, after which repairs were made by Emperor Henry II, Kremsmünster for the most part escaped sacking, dissolution, and aristocratic expropriation; little wonder, since it sits on a hill like an intimidating fortress.

Like many continental libraries, it was (re)built in the popular Baroque style in the 17th Century, according to which most surfaces (luckily not including the floor) are subjected to exuberant carving, gilding, and frescoes – although this library is positively restrained in comparison to some. Books as intellectual and cultural capital were once considered as valuable as jewels, and it made sense for them to be stored and displayed in gorgeous jewel boxes.

Biblioteca Statale Oratoriana dei Girolamini (The Girolamini Library), Naples, Italy
The Girolamini library is part of a large complex founded by the Oratorian religious order. The library hall is an imposing space that rises through three elegant stories: two levels of carved wood shelves, topped with late baroque plasterwork and frescoes. The sheer volume of books on display leaves one in no doubt that this is a place of higher study and research, as well as a warehouse of knowledge. Although it is wide ranging, the collection is particularly strong in music: the Oratorians believe in the importance of music and song in religious contemplation.

This was the 18th-Century philosopher Giambattista Vico’s favourite library. It is also, sadly, an instance of a historic library being ransacked in the 21st Century: in 2012 it was discovered that a crime ring had been systematically looting and selling its valuable antique texts on the open market, although many of them have now been recovered. This episode is a valuable reminder, if one were needed, that humanity’s written heritage – the ‘memory of the world’, as Unesco calls it – remains under constant threat of attack.

Bibliothèque Sainte-Geneviève (Sainte-Geneviève Library), Paris, France

Although we know it is probably older, documentary information about this library first appears in 1148. It was founded as a monastic library, survived the calamitous years of the Revolution intact (although the abbey it was a part of was dissolved and turned into a school), and now serves as the Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne university library. The library’s holdings expanded with the dissolution of other religious institutions and from confiscation of aristocratic collections.

The new abbey church, built in the 18th Century, has been turned into the famous Panthéon, the national hall of fame. The current library building was created by the architect Henri Labrouste and opened in 1851. The majestic reading room is like an Industrial Age cathedral; the iron-frame construction brings to mind the other great public cathedrals of the period, the railway stations. In a modern arrangement, desks for readers are at centre stage, with the book stacks standing in graceful attendance. Gas lighting was employed in a monumental hall for the first time.

Klosterbibliothek Metten (Metten Abbey Library), Germany

The Benedictine Abbey at Metten was founded in 766 but was buffeted by the Reformation, war, social unrest, secularisation, and the realpolitik swirling around it. This reached a crescendo in 1803, when the abbey’s property, including its library holdings, were confiscated and auctioned off. However, under King Ludwig I of Bavaria the abbey was reopened and a new library was established; the site once more became a redoubt of knowledge and education.

Under Abbot Märkl the monastery was transformed into a prelate’s palace, more in keeping with the prestige it commanded. Among its breathtaking official reception rooms are the library, which is designed along a sophisticated theological scheme. The result is a densely saturated and surprisingly playful palate of beautiful materials.

The sculptor Franz Josef Holzinger was commissioned to create the ‘atlantes’ on the central columns to hold up the ceiling (because an ordinary marble column would never do). Christian heroes such as Thomas Aquinas are captured in scenes from their lives in the ceiling frescoes. If there is a problem with this Rococo approach to constructing a ‘temple of knowledge’, it is perhaps that one sometimes has to squint to find the books.

Stiftsbibliothek Sankt Gallen (Saint Gall Abbey Library), St Gallen, Switzerland

For a long time, St Gall Abbey was one of the most important intellectual centres in Western Europe, and it incorporates one of the largest medieval libraries in the world. The abbey was founded in the 7th Century by the Irish monk Gallus, and followed the Rule of St Benedict – the most bookish of saints, who required of his order the disciplined contemplation of religious texts – for more than a thousand years.

A Greek inscription above the library’s entrance calls it a ‘sanctuary for the soul’. Today’s library arose during the Baroque remodelling of the abbey in the 18th Century by the architect Peter Thumb. The decoration befits a place of great cultural capital. There is rich, Rococo ornamentation everywhere, and especially in the stucco work. The carved wooden bookcases completely cover the walls on two levels, while the ceiling paintings depict ecumenical councils and church fathers. The abbey was added to the Unesco World Heritage list in 1983.

Stiftsbibliothek Admont (Admont Abbey Library), Austria

Whatever you think of religion, it’s clear that monasteries and their libraries were historically the batteries that kept the light of (what we think of as) Western civilisation burning. The Admont Abbey library has been one of the greatest sources of stored cultural energy for almost a millennium. It is the largest monastic library in the world, and it could also be the grandest.

The Benedictine community at Admont goes back to 1074, and it has been collecting books all that time. The abbey currently holds around 1,400 precious manuscripts, of which more than half date from the Middle Ages and the earliest is from the 8th Century. Modelled on the Imperial Court Library in Vienna, which its architect Josef Hueber also designed, it is acknowledged to be a masterpiece.

The baroque interior of the 70m (230 feet)-long library hall is made up of seven circular vaults, divided by a large central vault on the ceiling of which is a fresco of ‘Divine Wisdom’ by the artist Altomonte. The rooms are dotted with impressive sculptures by Josef Stammel, who worked for Admont for many years. The books are arranged by subject matter, under corresponding frescoes, in accordance with Enlightenment ideals.

Strahovská Knihovna (Strahov Monastery Library), Prague, Czech Republic

The Premonstratensian Strahov monastery was founded in in 1143 and has survived fire, wars, and plundering. Fortunately the holes torn in its collection have been more than made up for over the years by acquisitions and bequests. The library is home to the usual array of religious books, including the exquisite Strahov Evangeliary from the 9th Century, with semi-precious stones embedded in the binding, but its holdings cover a broad range of topics.

In design, the library has two monumental halls. The Theological Hall was commissioned by the Abbot of Strahov in 1671; its riotous stucco work and many paintings and inscriptions (illustrating the principles of faith, study, knowledge, and divine providence) place it firmly in the Bohemian Baroque tradition. The fact that its codices are uniformly bound in white give the hall a pleasingly well-ordered feel.

The Philosophical Hall (shown here) was built starting in 1783, is more neoclassical in design, and is characterised by its magnificent walnut book cabinets, which were salvaged from the dissolved abbey of Louka, in Moravia. After the Communist coup, the monastery was appropriated by the Czechoslovakian State in 1950 to become part of the Museum of Czech Literature. But after the fall of Communism, the collections were given back to the Premonstratensians, who have been working since to repair decades of neglect.

Trinity College Library, Dublin, Ireland

If you still have your sunglasses on, you can take them off now, because the Long Room at Trinity College Library is pleasingly low on ornamentation, and soothingly high on Enlightenment symmetries. Elizabeth I of England founded Trinity College in 1592 as a centre of Protestant scholarship, the idea being to break with the monastic tradition of learning and establish a new framework within the University of Dublin.

Because the university outgrew its first library, a new building was planned by Thomas Burgh. Known as the Old Library, it was begun in 1712 and finished in 1732. It includes a spectacular 65m (215 ft)-long central space known as the Long Room; the original flat roof of the single-storey room was raised in 1858 and replaced with the oak barrel-vaulting that exists today.

The Long Room’s oak shelves hold 200,000 of the university’s most valuable books. Among the intellectual worthies whose busts are ranked along the bookshelves are Oscar Wilde and Samuel Beckett, both of whom once used the library. (There are no women.) The library’s treasures include illuminated masterpieces such as the Book of Durrow (c 650–700) and the Book of Kells (c 800).

How Did We Get to Be Human?

I spoke recently to a scientist who was writing up a summary of what we know about human evolution. He should have had a head start, having written a similar article five years ago.

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But when he looked at what he had written then, he realized that little of it was relevant. “I can’t use much of any of it,” he told me.

As a journalist, I can sympathize.

In recent years, scientists have offered a flood of insights into how we became human. Fairly often, the new evidence doesn’t square with what we thought we knew.

Instead, many of these findings demand that researchers ask new questions about the human past, and envision a more complex prehistory.

When Science Times debuted 40 years ago, scientists knew far less about how our ancestors branched off from other apes and evolved into new species, known as hominins.

Back then, the oldest known hominin fossil was a diminutive, small-brained female unearthed in Ethiopia named Lucy. Her species, now known as Australopithecus afarensis, existed from about 3.85 million years ago to about 2.95 million years ago.

Lucy and her kin still had apelike features, like long arms and curved hands. They could walk on the ground, but inefficiently. Running was out of the question.

Hominin evolution appeared to have taken a relatively direct path from her to modern humans. The earliest known members of our genus, Homo, were taller and had long legs for walking and running, as well as much larger brains. Eventually, early Homo gave rise to our own exceptional species, Homo sapiens.

Now, it’s clear that Lucy’s species wasn’t the beginning of our evolution; it was a branch that sprouted midway along the trunk of our family tree. Researchers have found fossils of hominins dating back over six million years. Those vestiges — a leg bone here, a crushed skull there — hint at even more apelike ancestors.

But even the earliest known hominins were like us in one important regard. They appear to have been able to walk on the ground, at least for short distances.

Paleoanthropologists have uncovered a wealth of new fossils from all points on the spectrum of hominin evolution. Some clearly belonged to known species, such as Australopithecus afarensis. Some were so distinct that they deserved a new designation.

But others have fallen somewhere in between. Often they look like mosaics of other species, carrying remarkable combinations of traits. Some of these mosaics may have been the result of interbreeding between species.

But it may be, too, that hominins independently evolved many traits many times, along separate lines of evolution.

All this mixing and experimentation produced as many as 30 different sorts of hominins — that we know of. And one kind did not simply succeed another through history: For millions of years, several sorts of hominins coexisted.

Indeed, our own species shared this planet with near-relatives until just recently.

In 2017, researchers found the oldest known fossils of our species in Morocco, bones dating back about 300,000 years. At that time, Neanderthals also existed. They continued to live across Europe and Asia until 40,000 years ago.

At that time, too, Homo erectus, one of the oldest members of our genus, still clung to existence in what is now Indonesia. The species did not go extinct until at least 143,000 years ago.

Homo erectus and Neanderthals are hardly new to paleoanthropologists. Neanderthals came to light in 1851, and Homo erectus fossils were discovered in the 1890s. But still other hominins, recent research has shown, shared the planet with our own species.

In 2015, researchers unearthed 250,000-year-old fossils in a South African cave. Known as Homo naledi, this new species had a Lucy-sized brain, but it was also a complex structure in ways that resembled our own.

The wrist and other hand bones of Homo naledi were humanlike, while its long, curved fingers seemed more like an ape’s.

While Homo naledi thrived in Africa, another mysterious species could be found on an island now called Flores, in Indonesia. Known as Homo floresiensis, these hominins stood only three feet high and had brains even smaller than that of Homo naledi.

The species may have arrived on Flores as early as 700,000 years ago, and these hominins endured until at least 60,000 years ago. Homo floresiensis appears to have made stone tools, perhaps to hunt and butcher the dwarf elephants that once lived on the island.

Paleoanthropologists today are no longer limited to just examining the size and shape of fossils. Over the past 20 years, geneticists have learned how to extract DNA from bones dating back tens of thousands of years.

In one remarkable discovery in Siberia, researchers examining a nondescript pinkie bone discovered the genome of a separate line of hominins, now known as Denisovans.

As it turns out, we have had the planet to ourselves only in the past 40,000 years — a small fraction of Homo sapiens’ existence. Perhaps we outcompeted other species. Maybe they just had bad luck in evolution’s lottery.

But in one way, we are still living with them. Both Neanderthals and Denisovans interbred with our ancestors some 60,000 years ago, and billions of people today carry their DNA. Still mosaics, after all this time.

Homo Naledi

Adolf Hitler: Rare photos that reveal the man behind the monster

Führer Of The Deutschland He was the first European commander to ban the operation of human zoos.

The Allies intended to slip estrogen into Hitler's food in hopes of making him more feminine and less aggressive.

Unusual treatments for his numerous ailments included leeches and a meth-like compound called Pervitin.

Documents show that he endured a host of diseases including irritable bowel syndrome and Parkinson's disease.

Before he adopted his signature mustache, he had a handlebar mustache but had to shave it after joining the army.

He had severe gastrointestinal issues and farted uncontrollably.

He took injections of bull semen to heighten his sexual potency.

There's no proof to support the popular theory that his father's family was Jewish, but family DNA does contain elements typical among Jews and Africans.

Archivists agree that he never once visited a single concentration camp.

He wasted his inheritance while attempting to be an artist and ended up in homeless shelters.

He spared the life of a Jewish doctor who treated his family during hard financial times and called him a "noble Jew."

While fighting in WWI, he momentarily went blind from a mustard gas attack.

He reportedly suffered from a fear of cats.

Medical reports show that he only had one testicle.

Hitler frequently used cocaine during the war years.

He was obsessed with his teenage niece, making her a practical prisoner in his home and possibly his lover.

He had the plan to assassinate Winston Churchill with a bomb planted in chocolate. British spies were able to foil the idea, however.

He was a health nut and didn't eat meat, smoke or drink liquor by the time of World War II.

He became especially paranoid after a food poisoning attempt and had a staff of 15 terrified young women taste test all his meals.

Before his father changed it, the family name was Schicklgruber.

He was Austrian, not German, and didn't go to Germany until the start of World War I.

After a few rogue Nazi officers almost succeeded in assassinating him in 1944, he had 5,000 people executed in response.

There were at least 42 identified assassination plots on Hitler.

He rehearsed his speeches by having photos taken of himself in several poses.

He was a big fan of films, and some of his favorites included King Kong and Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

Ethiopia to launch its first-ever satellite with China’s help

Ethiopia has announced its intention to launch its first satellite during 2019. According to the Ethiopian Space Science and Technology Institute (ESSTI) at the Addis Ababa University, the satellite is expected to be launched from China during September 2019.

The initial plans to launch the satellite were announced in 2016 at the same time the Ethiopian Council of Ministers approved the establishment of ESSTI.

“The satellite will be launched from China while the control and command station will be in Ethiopia”, said Dr. Solomon Belay Tessema, Director General at the ESSTI.

Exploring the universe

Sticking with the ESSTI’s slogan of “We explore the universe for the benefit of our people”,  the launch of Ethiopia’s earth observatory satellite will be used to improve the country’s weather-monitoring capabilities.

So far, what has been revealed is that the satellite‘s design and development will cost a total of approximately $8 million, with China funding $6 million of that cost. The terms of the collaboration between Ethiopia and China as far as the launch of the satellite is concerned were not revealed at the time of publishing.

An AI developer is building a HAL-9000-inspired system for space stations

Artificial intelligence has come a long way in the past decade or so, but one of the scariest portrayals of how AI could ultimate doom us was created way back in the late 1960s. HAL-9000, the nefarious AI from 2001: A Space Odyssey, saw human life as expendable in the shadow of its mission objectives. Now, an AI developer, inspired by HAL-9000, is building a real-life automated system for future space missions.

Yeah, this is usually the part where I say how bad of an idea this sounds but, as with so many science fiction tropes that fall apart in the real world, we probably don’t have any reason to fear this new artificial mind. Hopefully.

The system is called CASE, which stands for Cognitive Architecture for Space Agents, and it’s the brainchild of AI developer Pete Bonasso. As Space.com reports, Bonasso’s obsession with AI began way back when he saw the 1968 Stanley Kubrick film 2001, and he’s wanted to build a not-so-deadly HAL-alike for a while now.

CASE is designed to managed all the vital systems of a space station and keep its inhabitants alive and well. It’s a layer-based system with one of three layers handling specific tasks.

The first layer is the lays the groundwork for the rest of the system, allowing CASE to tap into cameras and robotic hardware so it can do its job. The second layer monitors all the systems that run continuously, including life support programs that keep the air breathable and so on. The third layer handles scheduling and efficiency.

“Our colleagues and NASA counterparts are not concerned that our HAL might get out of control,” Bonasso explained to Space.com. “That’s because it can’t do anything it’s not programmed to do.”

The first round of testing saw CASE manage a virtual off-world settlement for around four hours. It’s just a tiny step towards the larger goal of an AI that can manage a colony on its own, but it’s an important one. Will we live to regret relying on AI to keep us alive if we ever dive deep into space? We’ll just have to wait and see.