Because his words have been repeated so often, Charles Dickens might be mocked by some for his opening lines to A Tale of Two Cities:
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”
But what’s to mock? Aren’t those thoughts both insightful and applicable to all “times,” including our own? The applicability? In our Age of Shouting, it’s the noisiest authorities that speak “in the superlative degree of comparison only.” Certainly, we hear much from pundits and politicians on both sides that this is the worst of times and that this is the best of times. In reality, no age has escaped the duality of the human social condition, and no civilization has ever been solely “best” or “worst.” From natural disasters and Man’s inhumanity to Man to achievements and heroism, every age “sees it all.” And much of the "seeing" is simply a matter of perspective.
I have to thank Joseph J. Ellis, author of Founding Brothers for additional evidence that this duality of the human condition wasn't just a nineteenth century phenomenon discovered by Dickens.* No one in American colonial times, during the Revolution, and in the first years of the Republic had higher standing than George Washington. He was an example of the "best" during the "worst." During Washington’s presidency, however, the country suffered a reversal of feeling. As President, he sent John Jay to negotiate a treaty with England that infuriated many Americans who had fought with the aid of the French against England. Washington, Jay, and Hamilton could see the benefit of Jay’s Treaty of 1795 because through it the country avoided war with England. Others saw the treaty as “a repudiation of the Franco-American alliance of 1778, which had been so instrumental in gaining French military assistance for the winning of the American revolution” (p. 136). People were—if you want the down-to-Earth term—pissed off, so much so that someone in a protesting mob hit Hamilton in the head with a rock while he tried to explain and defend the treaty. And, as Ellis writes, “Jay claimed that the entire eastern seaboard was illuminated each evening by protesters burning him in effigy.” Maybe the biggest revelation about the turmoil of the mid 1790s lay Ellis’s statement that “John Adams recalled that Washington’s house in Philadelphia was ‘surrounded by an innumerable multitude, from day to day buzzing, demanding war against England, cursing Washington…” (p. 137).
Imagine! Cursing Washington! Washington, who was universally considered the country’s “father”! Sixty-four years before Dickens wrote, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
Go back about 500 years, actually 339 years before the novel. Montezuma II’s kingdom received some guys in shining armor, guys with horses and military technology whose conquistador leader was initially mistaken for some visiting deity. For the Aztecs it was the best of times; it was the worst of times. And you can, as I said above, find in every civilization the juxtaposition of best and worst.
Another example from farther back: Go back about two millennia. Jesus mounted an ass to ride into Jerusalem during the week of Passover. The crowds, according to the Gospel, greeted him with palms and cheers. Within a week crowds were shouting, “Crucify him!” “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.”
Yet farther back. Socrates fostered the rise of philosophy that occurred during the rise of one of the world’s great civilizations 2,400 years ago. It was the best of times. Socrates was forced to commit suicide. It was the worst of times.
And into ancient myths: Odysseus, having defeated the Trojans, returning home on his ship, steering between death by Scylla and death by Charybdis, losing loyal warriors with whom he had brought down the famous walled city. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.
We don’t have an exclusive right to this duality, do we? It’s a human thing, a social condition. It’s always both the best and the worst of times. And that means today, too. And tomorrow.
We would all be hard pressed to name a time that didn’t have its own kind of duality. So, when you turn on your TV or open your newspaper or online news and see from your perspective the “decidedly” good juxtaposed against the “decidedly” bad, don’t fret. Like all times before ours and all times after ours, this is the best of times and the worst of times.
It’s easy to get discouraged by all the shouting, all the arguing, all the innuendoes. It’s easy to be depressed by loss of property and life during tsunamis and storms. Keep your chin up. It’s your choice to focus on the best or the worst. AND TO DO THE BEST DURING THE WORST. Here’s what Washington predicted during the turmoil of 1795: “After a few months of contemplation, ‘when passion shall have yield [sic.] to sober reason, the current may possibly turn’” (p. 137). In the meantime, as he noted and as we should note by comparison, “this government, in relation to France and England, may be compared to a ship; between the rocks of Scylla and Charybdis” (p 137). The key words: “sober reason.”
That’s where we are, folks. Just like George and company back in the 1790s, like Montezuma II in the 1500s, and like Jesus in the tens, Socrates in the fourth century B.C. and mythical Odysseus about three millennia ago, we’re always going to be between a Scylla and Charybdis making our way in a narrow gap of good, always simultaneously experiencing as a civilization the best of times bordered by the worst of times. We can take Washington’s advice and wait until “passion shall have yield to sober reason,” or we can take action to steer toward the best of times in the waters between extremes.
*Ellis, Joseph J. Founding Brothers: The Revolutionary Generation. New York. Vintage Books, 2000.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”
But what’s to mock? Aren’t those thoughts both insightful and applicable to all “times,” including our own? The applicability? In our Age of Shouting, it’s the noisiest authorities that speak “in the superlative degree of comparison only.” Certainly, we hear much from pundits and politicians on both sides that this is the worst of times and that this is the best of times. In reality, no age has escaped the duality of the human social condition, and no civilization has ever been solely “best” or “worst.” From natural disasters and Man’s inhumanity to Man to achievements and heroism, every age “sees it all.” And much of the "seeing" is simply a matter of perspective.
I have to thank Joseph J. Ellis, author of Founding Brothers for additional evidence that this duality of the human condition wasn't just a nineteenth century phenomenon discovered by Dickens.* No one in American colonial times, during the Revolution, and in the first years of the Republic had higher standing than George Washington. He was an example of the "best" during the "worst." During Washington’s presidency, however, the country suffered a reversal of feeling. As President, he sent John Jay to negotiate a treaty with England that infuriated many Americans who had fought with the aid of the French against England. Washington, Jay, and Hamilton could see the benefit of Jay’s Treaty of 1795 because through it the country avoided war with England. Others saw the treaty as “a repudiation of the Franco-American alliance of 1778, which had been so instrumental in gaining French military assistance for the winning of the American revolution” (p. 136). People were—if you want the down-to-Earth term—pissed off, so much so that someone in a protesting mob hit Hamilton in the head with a rock while he tried to explain and defend the treaty. And, as Ellis writes, “Jay claimed that the entire eastern seaboard was illuminated each evening by protesters burning him in effigy.” Maybe the biggest revelation about the turmoil of the mid 1790s lay Ellis’s statement that “John Adams recalled that Washington’s house in Philadelphia was ‘surrounded by an innumerable multitude, from day to day buzzing, demanding war against England, cursing Washington…” (p. 137).
Imagine! Cursing Washington! Washington, who was universally considered the country’s “father”! Sixty-four years before Dickens wrote, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”
Go back about 500 years, actually 339 years before the novel. Montezuma II’s kingdom received some guys in shining armor, guys with horses and military technology whose conquistador leader was initially mistaken for some visiting deity. For the Aztecs it was the best of times; it was the worst of times. And you can, as I said above, find in every civilization the juxtaposition of best and worst.
Another example from farther back: Go back about two millennia. Jesus mounted an ass to ride into Jerusalem during the week of Passover. The crowds, according to the Gospel, greeted him with palms and cheers. Within a week crowds were shouting, “Crucify him!” “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.”
Yet farther back. Socrates fostered the rise of philosophy that occurred during the rise of one of the world’s great civilizations 2,400 years ago. It was the best of times. Socrates was forced to commit suicide. It was the worst of times.
And into ancient myths: Odysseus, having defeated the Trojans, returning home on his ship, steering between death by Scylla and death by Charybdis, losing loyal warriors with whom he had brought down the famous walled city. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.
We don’t have an exclusive right to this duality, do we? It’s a human thing, a social condition. It’s always both the best and the worst of times. And that means today, too. And tomorrow.
We would all be hard pressed to name a time that didn’t have its own kind of duality. So, when you turn on your TV or open your newspaper or online news and see from your perspective the “decidedly” good juxtaposed against the “decidedly” bad, don’t fret. Like all times before ours and all times after ours, this is the best of times and the worst of times.
It’s easy to get discouraged by all the shouting, all the arguing, all the innuendoes. It’s easy to be depressed by loss of property and life during tsunamis and storms. Keep your chin up. It’s your choice to focus on the best or the worst. AND TO DO THE BEST DURING THE WORST. Here’s what Washington predicted during the turmoil of 1795: “After a few months of contemplation, ‘when passion shall have yield [sic.] to sober reason, the current may possibly turn’” (p. 137). In the meantime, as he noted and as we should note by comparison, “this government, in relation to France and England, may be compared to a ship; between the rocks of Scylla and Charybdis” (p 137). The key words: “sober reason.”
That’s where we are, folks. Just like George and company back in the 1790s, like Montezuma II in the 1500s, and like Jesus in the tens, Socrates in the fourth century B.C. and mythical Odysseus about three millennia ago, we’re always going to be between a Scylla and Charybdis making our way in a narrow gap of good, always simultaneously experiencing as a civilization the best of times bordered by the worst of times. We can take Washington’s advice and wait until “passion shall have yield to sober reason,” or we can take action to steer toward the best of times in the waters between extremes.
*Ellis, Joseph J. Founding Brothers: The Revolutionary Generation. New York. Vintage Books, 2000.
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