Areopagus Volume LV

Seven short lessons every someday.

Welcome one and all to the fifty fifth instalment of the Areopagus. Mid-July, what joy! Earlier, on what has been an admittedly not-so-glorious English summer's day, I came across a bumble bee, and was reminded of the great Roman poet Virgil. One of his early masterpieces is the Georgics. It is part agricultural manual and part lyrical evocation of the countryside, laced with mythological retellings and subtle political allusions, and just about one of the most delightful things I have ever read.

The fourth book of the Georgics is devoted almost entirely to bees, and in his affectionate description of how they live Virgil seems to be drawing out an analogy for human civilisation. With that Latin bard and his bucolic verse, then, let the tone be set for this week's Areopagus:

As for the rest, when the golden sun has driven winter
under the earth, and unlocked the heavens with summer light,
from the first they wander through glades and forests,
grazing the bright flowers, and sipping the sur…