The World's Progress Part 1

The World's Progress.

by Various and The Delphian Society.

VOL. I.

THE DELPHIAN SOCIETY

THE DELPHIAN COURSE OF READING

Two thousand years before the sight of a new world burst upon the view of the Genoese mariner, there existed in north-central Greece a sanctuary famous in three continents. Located in mountainous Phocis, in a natural amphitheater, overhung by frowning rocks and reached only through mysterious caves, was the Oracle of Delphi. Here in remote times Apollo was believed to reveal his wishes to men through the medium of a priestess, speaking under the influence of vaporous breath which rose from a yawning fissure. Her utterances were not always coherent and were interpreted to those seeking guidance by Apollo's priests.

As its fame spread, the number of visitors to Delphi increased. More priests were needed to counsel and advise. Although the first blind faith in earlier deities lessened, the prestige of Delphi was nevertheless preserved. Apollo's priests became better versed in the affairs of Greece and the surrounding countries; their a.s.sistants became familiar with all vital issues, and thus intelligent replies were given to unceasing inquiries. In time the Greek divinities were almost forgotten and Christianity became the state religion, yet the Oracle of Delphi continued to draw men unto it until the fifth Christian century.

Ancient writers have left us abundant accounts of journeyings made thither by potentates and kings, and have described at length the rich offerings left by them in grat.i.tude. The humble were seldom mentioned by early writers and it remained for the last few years to bring to light little leaden tablets--valueless from the standpoint of plunderers, earth-covered and revealed only by the excavator's spade--silent testimonials of appeals made to the oracle by the common people.

It is difficult for us today to understand the powerful influence which the Delphian Oracle exercised for a thousand years in Greece. This might fittingly be compared to that wielded by the Church in the Middle Ages.

Here questions of international importance were brought, policies determined, and the balance delicately turned for peace or war. Nor were questions of the humblest slighted. Any interference on the part of one state designed to deny citizens of another free access to Delphi precipitated serious trouble.

There is no doubt but that implicit faith directed the first visitors to Delphi and beyond question this faith to some extent survived. The peasant accepted literally the presence of deity as many a worshipper today regards the statue, not as a symbol, but as the very Christ.

However, there have been in all ages the discerning who have distinguished between the symbol and that symbolized, and certainly the keen, alert Greeks did not remain blind adherents of antiquated conceptions. The wisdom of the Delphian priests was revered and their judgments accepted much in the same way as were those of the seers who taught the children of Israel at the city gates. The Oracle of Delphi became potent--a name with which to conjure.

We know full well today that no priestess upon a tripod can reveal to us the secrets of the future. A thorough understanding of the past must be the safest guide for coming years. No vapor can inspire sudden revelations--the result only of faithful effort and earnest thought. Yet the story of the ancient oracle charms us still and when a name was sought for a national organization, that had for its avowed purpose the promotion of educational interests in a continent, none was deemed more suitable than that which for so many years cast its gracious spell from one sea to another.

Each new decade brings new needs, and the conditions of fifty years ago were wholly different from those confronting us today. Ours is an age characterized by intensity, strenuous effort and tireless exertion.

Leisure seems to have disappeared from our national life and to be remembered only when reviewing pleasant stories of other times.

Educators complain that we are neglecting the wisdom of the past--that the enduring thoughts of men as preserved to us in their writings have ceased to be familiar. The thoughtful deplore the loss of culture, courtesy and old-time chivalry. Frequently the critics fail to look beneath the surface for reasons leading to the very evident result. The truth is that in no previous age have the hearts of people been more sensitive to injustice, more united for fair dealing between man and man, more eager for the best the world can offer. But we are living in a transition period; social and industrial conditions have not yet crystallized in their new forms sufficiently to permit the wider opportunity for cultivation and reflection which must necessarily overtake us in time.

At present people acc.u.mulate fine libraries and rarely read them; for their shelves they seek the best--for their diversion the lightest and most transient literature. Few are there who do not dream of a happy time when it shall be their delight to browse among their books and find companionship in them. Still the years fly by relentlessly and many who are not mere theorists are sounding a warning: This time so fondly antic.i.p.ated will never come to many of the present generation; seize today; s.n.a.t.c.h a brief moment for the consideration of enduring thoughts; do not merely provide for the temporal wants and leave the soul famishing. Dr. Eliot, late president of Harvard, in repeated lectures and addresses has voiced this crying need.

"From the total training during childhood there should result in the child a taste for interesting and improving reading, which should direct and inspire its subsequent intellectual life. That schooling which results in this taste for good reading, however unsystematic or eccentric the schooling may have been, has achieved a main end of elementary education; and that schooling which does not result in implanting this permanent taste has failed. Guided and animated by this impulse to acquire knowledge, and exercise his imagination through reading, the individual will continue to educate himself all through life. Without that deep-rooted impulsion he will soon cease to draw on the acc.u.mulated wisdom of the past and the new resources of the present, and, as he grows older, he will live in a mental atmosphere which is always growing thinner and emptier. Do we not all know many people who seem to live in a mental vacuum--to whom, indeed, we have great difficulty in attributing immortality, because they apparently have so little life except that of the body? _Fifteen minutes a day of good reading would have given any one of this mult.i.tude a really human life._"[1]

To meet this condition, which prevails throughout the length and breadth of our land, to stimulate a deeper interest, quicken a latent appreciation and facilitate the use of brief periods of freedom for self-improvement, the Delphian Society was organized and the Delphian Course of Reading made possible.

Believing that only a comprehensive course could meet the requirements of the day and prove acceptable to a large number of people, the Delphian Society has included those subjects which are now offered in the curriculums of our leading colleges and universities--history, literature, philosophy, poetry, fiction, drama, art, ethics, music.

Mathematics, being in its higher forms essential to few, has been omitted; languages, requiring the aid of a teacher, and such sciences as make laboratories necessary, are not included. None of these subjects possess purely cultural qualities. Technical information has no place whatever in such a scheme. The branches of human interest which remain are those of vital importance to everyone.

Not only is the list of subjects widely inclusive, but the method of treatment has been carefully considered. Finding the beginnings of most modern activities in antiquity, the Delphian Course presents the gradual unfoldment of each subject from earliest times to our own. The distance between an imitation of the hunt, as found among the diversions of primitive people, and a modern play is great, and yet no complete idea of the latter can be acquired without some conception of dramatic origins. The crude picture drawn upon the sooty hide which formed a hut in early times and the crowning masterpiece of a Raphael present extremes, and yet he who would follow the gradual growth of painting realizes that each has its place in the progress of art. Only in comparatively recent times has the value of each link which form the long chain of development been understood. No amount of heterogenous reading can compare with the systematic tracing of one subject from its early manifestations to its present forms.

Correlation of topics presents wonderful possibilities. If we become interested, for example, in society as portrayed in the earliest English novels, how much more shall we then appreciate the canvases of Hogarth, which depict the same social conditions. If the age of idealism in literature be under consideration, the productions of contemporaneous artists grow to have for us a new significance.

It is a mistake to imagine that relaxation and diversion are obtainable only from reading matter of the day. Oscar Kuhms calls attention to the fact that "to spend hours over ill.u.s.trated magazines, Sunday newspapers, and the majority of popular novels, has very little to do with the art of reading in its larger sense." To a far greater extent than is generally imagined, the inordinate reading of magazines accounts for the host of superficial readers of our generation. To see how temporary is their interest one needs only to examine journals three or four years old.

The pleasures of travel may be greatly enhanced by definite knowledge of countries visited--their recorded past, the manner of life of those who dwelt within them and those now populating them; ruins, old temples, surviving art, make slight appeal to those wholly unfamiliar with the ages that produced them. The enjoyment of a play is more poignant for the one who has in mind the changes which plays and playhouses have witnessed. There is something impressive in the thought that for ages audiences have been thus held spellbound. Four centuries before the Christian era imposing dramas and keenly satirical comedies were given before larger a.s.semblies than modern theatres could accommodate. Only in modern times has a curtain separated the players and spectators.

Formerly the favored sat upon the stage itself; in the Elizabethan playhouse the majority stood throughout an entire performance. Sentences in Shakespeare's plays are meaningless without taking these facts into account. Some extended acquaintance with pictures would put an end to comments made not infrequently by critics that the spectacle of groups of people today in attendance upon an art exhibit supplies an astonishing sight. The majority--so it has been stated--find a number in their catalogues, search frantically about for a picture so designated, and when they discover it, sigh with satisfaction and begin the search for another--"for all the world as though they were indulging in a simple hunting game!" Why Raphael painted so many Madonnas, why Watteau seems to have known only the gay and carefree--these are simple questions which many might find perplexing to adequately explain.

The traveler whose time in a foreign land is limited does not seek the commonplace and unattractive; he does not try to compa.s.s all a city might have to show in the brief period he can spend there; rather, he obtains the guidance of those more familiar with the locality, and gives his attention to the best it has to offer. So if our time for reading and self-improvement must be brief, we shall find small satisfaction in wasting it blindly searching for what may satisfy. Educators are usually less pressed by insidious cares and more free to give their devotion to favorite subjects.

It is a mistake to suppose one reads chiefly for information. We read to develop our insight into the mystery of life; to gain an individual viewpoint; to establish our standards of conduct and modify our standard of judgment. Reading which is mere diversion can never bestow this power.

If those adopting the Delphian Course as the basis of their reading find that with its aid they are enabled to accomplish more satisfying results; if they finally discover that with its guidance one can make more intelligent use of his own library; if a love for things worth while--the lasting and enduring thoughts and sentiments of men--increases, and the desire for wider knowledge is aroused--the hopes and ambitions of the Delphian Society shall have been largely realized.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Eliot: Educational Reform.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PRIMITIVE DRAWING OF MAN.]

PREHISTORIC MAN

The word _prehistoric_ means, literally, _before history begins_, and by prehistoric man we mean those human beings who lived upon the earth before records were kept. History, properly so called, does not begin until civilization is reached. The roaming of savage people over land in search of food has little or no importance for the student of history, although knowledge of a people in its savage state may throw some light upon its future development. While prehistoric ages are the concern of the archaeologist rather than the historian, we shall find that historic ages owe a great debt to prehistoric ages, and with this aspect of the matter the historian has deep interest.

The science of geology teaches us that the earth has not always possessed its present familiar appearance. On the contrary, countless years were consumed in molding it to its present shape, and even yet it is undergoing constant change. It is supposed that in the beginning all was a chaotic heap of Matter. In the words of a familiar story: "The earth was not solid, the sea was not liquid, nor the air transparent.

All lay in confusion."

In some mysterious way,--that n.o.body understands--Motion was started in this chaotic whole. Gradually the ma.s.s became more and more compact; at the same time it became very hot. Revolving on an imaginary axis, the ma.s.s grew rounder and rounder, flattening slightly at the poles, or the ends of the axis. Gradually the surface of the ma.s.s cooled, and cooling, formed the earth's crust. Because it did not cool evenly, but shrunk to fit the still molten ma.s.s, this surface or crust was left with deep creva.s.ses and high ridges. This marked irregularity was further increased by mighty upheavals caused by pressure of heat from within.

Thus were many of the mountains formed.

This process, so slightly indicated here, extended over a vast period of time. It is supposed that later, for a protracted period, rain fell.

When the age of rain had pa.s.sed, the deep depressions in the earth's surface were left filled with water--our present oceans and some of the seas. It would be impossible for us to review rapidly all the stages through which the earth pa.s.sed in its making. Suffice it to say that conditions upon it were not always favorable to life as we know it. In course of long geological ages--perhaps millions and millions of years--forests of trees, plants, shrubs and flowers sprang up and covered the bare earth. Last of all, probably, _man_ appeared. How all these things came about no one understands, but it is generally accepted that they occurred in an order similar to that just given. It would be useless for us to inquire into all the reasons that have led to these conclusions, but the most important one has been _evidences within the earth itself_.

Men who work deep down in mines know that as they descend lower and lower, the temperature rises, until there is a noticeable difference between the temperature at the entrance of a mine and at its lowest point. Moreover, not infrequently volcanoes pour forth streaming lava, smoke and fire accompanying the eruption. While such evidences lead to the conclusion that the temperature of its interior is very high, still there are many reasons for believing that the earth is a solid ma.s.s.

From the examination of the various earth strata, their composition and the evidences each bears of the conditions under which it was formed, we learn of periods of rain, heat and cold prevailing. All these facts belong to the realm of geology however, and concern us here only as they have concerned the progress of mankind. These same earth layers or strata which preserve eloquent testimony regarding the earth's development, contain also remains of prehistoric men--men who lived in the far away time before records were made and of which the rocks alone give testimony.

Of the beginnings of the human race we know nothing. Many scientists, notably Darwin and his followers, have sought to show that man evolved from some lower animal life, in a way similar to that in which we find some plant or flower perfected from inferior origin. Whether the theory of man's evolution from some lower animal will ever be shown to be true the future alone can tell. Nevertheless the scholarly world today has generally accepted the evolutionary view of life and the world.

Buried within the earth along river-beds, around cliffs, in mounds and many other places, have been found remains of primitive man. While the beginnings of the human race, as has been said, are utterly unknown, the earliest stage of which we have knowledge has been called the Paleolithic Age,--the age of the River-drift Man.

Whether we accept the theory of man's evolution from the lower animal kingdom or not, we must admit that the earliest Paleolithic people of whom we have knowledge differed but little from the wild beasts. They lived in caves along rivers,--natural retreats where wild animals might have taken refuge. They lived on berries, roots, fish and such small game as they could kill by blows. They did not cook their food, but devoured raw meat much as did the wild beasts. They did not even bury their dead. From the stones accessible to them they selected their weapons, chipping them roughly. The crude weapons of this period have given it the name of the Rough Stone Age.

The Paleolithic man, or man of the Rough Stone age, did not try to tame the beasts he encountered. He stood in great fear of those with whose strength he was not able to combat. He feared especially strange beings like himself, and with his family dwelt apart from others so far as possible. He did not plant nor gather stores for the future; thus when food failed in his vicinity, he was obliged to roam on until he came upon a fresh supply of acorns, berries, roots and small animals. Any cave served for his dwelling. He protected himself from cold by a covering made from the skin of the beast he had slain. He had few belongings and these were scarcely valued, being easily replaced.

It is not difficult to see why the man of the Rough Stone Age preferred to live by the side of some river. In early times, before paths were worn through the forests, travel was easiest along the river bed. Food was more abundant here, for fish inhabited the streams and thither also animals came to drink, and in the reeds by the river's side, birds and wild fowl breeded. Moreover, man was a timid creature and feared to venture far inland.

From all this we see that man in his primitive state gave little promise of his future development. For how long a time he continued in this stage, we cannot estimate. Yet we find a decided improvement in the latter part of this Paleolithic Age, for fire and its uses became known.

This brought about a wonderful change.

The man of the Paleolithic or Rough Stone Age was followed by the man of the Neolithic Age--the cliff dweller. He exchanged a home by the river for one higher up; secure in some elevated cliff, the Neolithic man lived, away from molesting beasts. Again, the stone weapons were greatly improved. No longer were they rough; on the contrary, they were now polished smooth. Ingenious from the beginning, man found that sharp edges of stone were more useful than blunt ones, that smooth handles were more convenient than irregular stones with no handles at all. For this reason, this period has been called the Smooth Stone Age. Other improvements no less momentous had been wrought. Food was now cooked, and as a result, man grew a little less ferocious. He had less fear of the wild beasts than before, and domesticated some of them. No longer was he wholly dependent upon such food as nature provided, for he had learned how to sow grain and gather it. He had learned how to fashion bowls and other receptacles of clay. He now buried his dead with weapons and other useful articles, proving that he believed that the dead still had need of such things. We must not, however, suppose that he believed in immortality, for the evidence shows that his conception of a hereafter was very vague. In most cases the care for and fear of the dead ceased a few years after their burial. Before the close of this period men had journeyed far from abject savagery.

Finally we come to the Metal--sometimes called the Bronze--Age. The discovery of metal proved the greatest boon, for now it was possible to make sharp tools and weapons. Hitherto the mere cutting down of a tree had taken a prodigious time. With a bronze ax, it could be quickly accomplished. Progress made rapid strides after this invaluable discovery. Nor this alone. Having learned to domesticate the beasts, men pa.s.sed from a purely hunting into a pastoral stage. Having learned to reap and sow, it became convenient to have a fixed habitation. Instead of dwelling apart, it proved safest to settle in hamlets or villages. In other words, man had become _civilized_, and with the dawn of civilization we find the dawn of history.

From this cursory view of the three important stages in prehistoric times, it is possible to derive mistaken notions. For example, there was never a time when stone was the only material available to man. Wood, ivory and sh.e.l.l were probably always known and frequently procurable.