of the founding myths of civilization repeats itself in many other cultures—including the modern and scientific just as much as the ancient and mythical. They are therefore quite different from
creation
myths, which concern the origins of the world—and very often explain instead mortality and the fact of death. In such creation myths, humans are not made immortal—this would make an elixir and indeed civilization obsolete; in Chinese mythology, for example, humans are made rather unlovingly from sprinkled blobs of clay. A transformation is required to make such beings fit for eternity—the transformation achieved by Huang Di and sought by the First Emperor.
Such myths demonstrate the extent to which the very idea of civilization is bound up with our hopes of living forever. We are created mortal, but civilization can redeem us. Many in the developedworld today might take its benefits for granted, but the people of these early civilizations knew very well how valuable was this magic barrier between them and barbarism. For these peoples, it was a simple continuum from the manifestly life-extending technologies of agriculture and medicine to an elixir of immortality.
The elixir was understood to be something real and material, yet its role was also symbolic. It represented the highest aim of civilization—the completion of the conquest of death that began when the first seeds were sown and bricks laid. Some of the most ancient documents in existence attest to its pursuit, and the search continues today.
THE ELIXIR
T HE world’s oldest surviving epic tale, that of the Sumerian king Gilgamesh, has the hero seek a plant of rejuvenation he calls “Old Man Grown Young.” We saw too in chapter 1 that the ancient Egyptians believed in an elixir of youth—one recipe dates back to 1600 BCE . In the thousands of years since these texts were written, there has never been a time when the quest for such a substance has not continued. Now, at the beginning of a new millennium, the elixir industry is as busy as ever: in the decade up to 2010 the respectable science magazine
New Scientist
reported on no fewer than twelve new “elixirs” that promised to halt aging.
Lest we are tempted to think that the ancient legends were all mythical mumbo-jumbo in contrast to today’s laboratory-tested wonder drugs, it is worth noting that one of the twelve cures for aging among the dozen mooted by the
New Scientist
is extracted from the root of the astragalus, an herb of the legume family. This plant is one of the “fifty fundamental herbs” of traditional Chinese medicine and very likely was among the prescriptions given to the First Emperor. There is no stark dividing line between sorcery and science: our methods have become more rigorous, efficient andproductive over the centuries, but we are otherwise still pursuing the Staying Alive Narrative just as humans always have, since history began.
“This quest was never merely the province of cranks or quacks,” wrote the historian of medicine Gerald Gruman. On the contrary, entire religions, famous philosophers and important scientists have dedicated themselves to finding the key to unlimited lifespan. Every generation has its technology of hope: at the beginning of the last century, it was the Steinach operation, named after the Austrian physiologist Eugen Steinach. This operation promised, in the words of one of Steinach’s colleagues, “indefinite prolongation of life,” and Steinach himself was nominated six times for the Nobel Prize (though he never won it). Many leading scientists and intellectuals and thousands of others underwent the procedure in the hope of rejuvenation, including Sigmund Freud and W. B. Yeats. Today, however, this operation is known simply as a vasectomy, and its rejuvenating powers have proved to be all in the mind.
The hope, however, of defeating death remains. It is fueled by the tales of super-long-lived persons who populate almost every culture.
creation
myths, which concern the origins of the world—and very often explain instead mortality and the fact of death. In such creation myths, humans are not made immortal—this would make an elixir and indeed civilization obsolete; in Chinese mythology, for example, humans are made rather unlovingly from sprinkled blobs of clay. A transformation is required to make such beings fit for eternity—the transformation achieved by Huang Di and sought by the First Emperor.
Such myths demonstrate the extent to which the very idea of civilization is bound up with our hopes of living forever. We are created mortal, but civilization can redeem us. Many in the developedworld today might take its benefits for granted, but the people of these early civilizations knew very well how valuable was this magic barrier between them and barbarism. For these peoples, it was a simple continuum from the manifestly life-extending technologies of agriculture and medicine to an elixir of immortality.
The elixir was understood to be something real and material, yet its role was also symbolic. It represented the highest aim of civilization—the completion of the conquest of death that began when the first seeds were sown and bricks laid. Some of the most ancient documents in existence attest to its pursuit, and the search continues today.
THE ELIXIR
T HE world’s oldest surviving epic tale, that of the Sumerian king Gilgamesh, has the hero seek a plant of rejuvenation he calls “Old Man Grown Young.” We saw too in chapter 1 that the ancient Egyptians believed in an elixir of youth—one recipe dates back to 1600 BCE . In the thousands of years since these texts were written, there has never been a time when the quest for such a substance has not continued. Now, at the beginning of a new millennium, the elixir industry is as busy as ever: in the decade up to 2010 the respectable science magazine
New Scientist
reported on no fewer than twelve new “elixirs” that promised to halt aging.
Lest we are tempted to think that the ancient legends were all mythical mumbo-jumbo in contrast to today’s laboratory-tested wonder drugs, it is worth noting that one of the twelve cures for aging among the dozen mooted by the
New Scientist
is extracted from the root of the astragalus, an herb of the legume family. This plant is one of the “fifty fundamental herbs” of traditional Chinese medicine and very likely was among the prescriptions given to the First Emperor. There is no stark dividing line between sorcery and science: our methods have become more rigorous, efficient andproductive over the centuries, but we are otherwise still pursuing the Staying Alive Narrative just as humans always have, since history began.
“This quest was never merely the province of cranks or quacks,” wrote the historian of medicine Gerald Gruman. On the contrary, entire religions, famous philosophers and important scientists have dedicated themselves to finding the key to unlimited lifespan. Every generation has its technology of hope: at the beginning of the last century, it was the Steinach operation, named after the Austrian physiologist Eugen Steinach. This operation promised, in the words of one of Steinach’s colleagues, “indefinite prolongation of life,” and Steinach himself was nominated six times for the Nobel Prize (though he never won it). Many leading scientists and intellectuals and thousands of others underwent the procedure in the hope of rejuvenation, including Sigmund Freud and W. B. Yeats. Today, however, this operation is known simply as a vasectomy, and its rejuvenating powers have proved to be all in the mind.
The hope, however, of defeating death remains. It is fueled by the tales of super-long-lived persons who populate almost every culture.
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