Here are some Yuletide reflections about a long-ago Golden Age in human prehistory -- and how it might yet return in the future. -- The Editor (@RHCLambengolmo)
The Ages of Humankind: A Myth for All Times & Climes
Excerpted from “A Golden Jubilee Interview with the Editor” by Maria Pauls Flannagan (ACES James Scholar Alumna & Bronze Tableteer, Class of 2014)
Reprinted
from Cursus Honorum (Course of Honors), Volume XII, Number 1 (August
2012)
- Maria: What is your
favorite mythological story of all time and why?
- Rob: The myth of the
“Ages of Humankind” is my all-time favorite. This story appears in the
Greek, Persian, Hindu, and Abrahamic religions. There are four main ages
of human history, the story goes. The first is the Golden Age, where
everything is very harmonious and peaceful; then comes the Silver Age,
when the human condition is a bit less harmonious and peaceful, but still
idyllic. Next is the Bronze Age, wherein people may sometimes be heroic,
but conflict and injustice begin to rear their ugly heads. Last of all is
the Iron Age, which is the age we live in, full of conflict, disasters,
and hardships. In the Greek version of this story, Astraea, the goddess of
justice, ruled the world during the Golden Age, but later – because of
humankind’s inhumanity to humankind – she departed into the sky to become
the constellation Virgo, the celestial Maiden who holds the Scales of
Justice (Libra) in her hand. Once this current Iron Age is done, the myth
goes on, we will go back to this perfect age, the Golden Age, and Astraea
will come back, and everyone will be nice and in harmony. I like this myth
best of all because it inspires us to strive for better conditions on
Earth, in which human beings can flourish and build a better society based
on justice, freedom, and peace for all peoples.
The prehistoric Golden Age is celebrated in verse by the Greek poet Aratus of Soli (fl. 3rd century BCE):
Beneath both feet of Boötes mark the Maiden [Virgo], who in her hands bears the gleaming Ear of Corn [Spica]. Whether she be daughter of Astraeus, who, men say, was of old the father of the stars, or child of other sire, untroubled be her course! But another tale is current among men, how of old she dwelt on earth and met men face to face, nor ever disdained in olden time the tribes of men and women, but mingling with them took her seat, immortal though she was. Her men called Justice; but she assembling the elders, it might be in the market-place or in the wide-wayed streets, uttered her voice, ever urging on them judgements kinder to the people. Not yet in that age had men knowledge of hateful strife, or carping contention, or din of battle, but a simple life they lived. Far from them was the cruel sea and not yet from afar did ships bring their livelihood, but the oxen and the plough and Justice herself, queen of the peoples, giver of things just, abundantly supplied their every need. Even so long as the earth still nurtured the Golden Race, she had her dwelling on earth. But with the Silver Race only a little and no longer with utter readiness did she mingle, for that she yearned for the ways of the men of old. Yet in that Silver Age was she still upon the earth; but from the echoing hills at eventide she came alone, nor spake to any man in gentle words. But when she had filled the great heights with gathering crowds, then would she with threats rebuke their evil ways, and declare that never more at their prayer would she reveal her face to man. “Behold what manner of race the fathers of the Golden Age left behind them! Far meaner than themselves! But ye will breed a viler progeny! Verily wars and cruel bloodshed shall be unto men and grievous woe shall be laid upon them.” Even so she spake and sought the hills and left the people all gazing towards her still. But when they, too, were dead, and when, more ruinous than they which went before, the Race of Bronze was born, who were the first to forge the sword of the highwayman, and the first to eat of the flesh of the ploughing-ox, then verily did Justice loathe that race of men and fly heavenward and took up that abode, where even now in the night time the Maiden is seen of men, established near to far-seen Boötes.
-- Aratus: Phaenomena, Lines 96-136
Next up is a Classical Latin poem by the Roman epic poet Virgil (70-19 BCE). In this
amazing piece of verse, Virgil predicts a new Golden Age for the human race to
follow the birth of a long-awaited Child; the poem’s resonances with visionary
themes and motifs in the Abrahamic faith traditions (cf. esp. Isaiah
11:6, “a little child shall lead them”) ensured Virgil’s continued popularity
throughout the Middle Ages and onward into the present day.
Virgil’s
Fourth Eclogue (Composed 37 BCE)
Muses
of Sicily, essay we now
A somewhat loftier task! Not all men love
Coppice or lowly tamarisk: sing we woods,
Woods worthy of a Consul let them be.
Now the last age by Cumae's Sibyl sung
Has come and gone, and the majestic roll
Of circling centuries begins anew:
Justice returns, returns old Saturn's reign,
With a new breed of men sent down from heaven.
Only do thou, at the boy's birth in whom
The iron shall cease, the golden race arise,
Befriend him, chaste Lucina; 'tis thine own
Apollo reigns. And in thy consulate,
This glorious age, O Pollio, shall begin,
And the months enter on their mighty march.
Under thy guidance, whatso tracks remain
Of our old wickedness, once done away,
Shall free the earth from never-ceasing fear.
He shall receive the life of gods, and see
Heroes with gods commingling, and himself
Be seen of them, and with his father's worth
Reign o'er a world at peace. For thee, O boy,
First shall the earth, untilled, pour freely forth
Her childish gifts, the gadding ivy-spray
With foxglove and Egyptian bean-flower mixed,
And laughing-eyed acanthus. Of themselves,
Untended, will the she-goats then bring home
Their udders swollen with milk, while flocks afield
Shall of the monstrous lion have no fear.
Thy very cradle shall pour forth for thee
Caressing flowers. The serpent too shall die,
Die shall the treacherous poison-plant, and far
And wide Assyrian spices spring. But soon
As thou hast skill to read of heroes' fame,
And of thy father's deeds, and inly learn
What virtue is, the plain by slow degrees
With waving corn-crops shall to golden grow,
From the wild briar shall hang the blushing grape,
And stubborn oaks sweat honey-dew. Nathless
Yet shall there lurk within of ancient wrong
Some traces, bidding tempt the deep with ships,
Gird towns with walls, with furrows cleave the earth.
Therewith a second Tiphys shall there be,
Her hero-freight a second Argo bear;
New wars too shall arise, and once again
Some great Achilles to some Troy be sent.
Then, when the mellowing years have made thee man,
No more shall mariner sail, nor pine-tree bark
Ply traffic on the sea, but every land
Shall all things bear alike: the glebe no more
Shall feel the harrow's grip, nor vine the hook;
The sturdy ploughman shall loose yoke from steer,
Nor wool with varying colors learn to lie;
But in the meadows shall the ram himself,
Now with soft flush of purple, now with tint
Of yellow saffron, teach his fleece to shine.
While clothed in natural scarlet graze the lambs.
"Such still, such ages weave ye, as ye run,"
Sang to their spindles the consenting Fates
By Destiny's unalterable decree.
Assume thy greatness, for the time draws nigh,
Dear child of gods, great progeny of Jove!
See how it totters- the world's orbed might,
Earth, and wide ocean, and the vault profound,
All, see, enraptured of the coming time!
Ah! might such length of days to me be given,
And breath suffice me to rehearse thy deeds,
Nor Thracian Orpheus should out-sing me then,
Nor Linus, though his mother this, and that
His sire should aid- Orpheus Calliope,
And Linus fair Apollo. Nay, though Pan,
With Arcady for judge, my claim contest,
With Arcady for judge great Pan himself
Should own him foiled, and from the field retire.
Begin to greet thy mother with a smile,
O baby-boy! ten months of weariness
For thee she bore: O baby-boy, begin!
For him, on whom his parents have not smiled,
Gods deem not worthy of their board or bed.
Excerpts
from “Optimism”
By
Helen Keller (1880-1968)
- To know the history of philosophy is to know that the
highest thinkers of the ages, the seers of the tribes and the nations,
have been optimists. The growth of philosophy is the story of man's
spiritual life.
- The highest result of education is tolerance. Long ago
men fought and died for their faith; but it took ages to teach them the
other kind of courage, — the courage to recognize the faiths of their
brethren and their rights of conscience. Tolerance is the first principle
of community; it is the spirit which conserves the best that all men
think.
- I see the clouds part slowly, and I hear a cry of
protest against the bigot. The restraining hand of tolerance is laid upon
the inquisitor, and the humanist utters a message of peace to the
persecuted. Instead of the cry, "Burn the heretic!" men study
the human soul with sympathy, and there enters into their hearts a new
reverence for that which is unseen.
- The idea of brotherhood redawns upon the world with a
broader significance than the narrow association of members in a sect or
creed; and thinkers of great soul like Lessing challenge the world to say
which is more godlike, the hatred and tooth-and-nail grapple of
conflicting religions, or sweet accord and mutual helpfulness. Ancient
prejudice of man against his brother-man wavers and retreats before the
radiance of a more generous sentiment, which will not sacrifice men to
forms, or rob them of the comfort and strength they find in their own
beliefs. The heresy of one age becomes the orthodoxy of the next. Mere
tolerance has given place to a sentiment of brotherhood between sincere
men of all denominations.
- The test of all beliefs is their practical effect in
life. If it be true that optimism compels the world forward, and pessimism
retards it, then it is dangerous to propagate a pessimistic philosophy.
- We have found that our great philosophers and our great
men of action are optimists. So, too, our most potent men of letters have
been optimists in their books and in their lives. No pessimist ever won an
audience commensurately wide with his genius, and many optimistic writers
have been read and admired out of all measure to their talents, simply
because they wrote of the sunlit side of life.
- Every optimist moves along with progress and hastens
it, while every pessimist would keep the worlds at a standstill. The
consequence of pessimism in the life of a nation is the same as in the
life of the individual. Pessimism kills the instinct that urges men to
struggle against poverty, ignorance and crime, and dries up all the
fountains of joy in the world.
- Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement;
nothing can be done without hope.
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