But they who were not acquainted with natural philosophy (for it did not begin to be in vogue until many years later) had no higher belief than what natural reason could give them; they were not acquainted with the principles and causes of things; they were often induced by certain visions, and those generally in the night, to think that those men who had departed from this life were still alive.
And this may further be brought as an irrefragable argument for us to believe that there are Gods—that there never was any nation so barbarous, nor any people in the world so savage, as to be without some notion of Gods.
Many have wrong notions of the Gods, for that is the nature and ordinary consequence of bad customs, yet all allow that there is a certain divine nature and energy. Nor does this proceed from the conversation of men, or the agreement of philosophers; it is not an opinion established by institutions or by laws; but, no doubt, in every case the consent of all nations is to be looked on as a law of nature.
Who is there, then, that does not lament the loss of his friends, principally from imagining them deprived of the conveniences of life? Take away this opinion, and you remove with it all grief; for no one is afflicted merely on account of a loss sustained by himself.
Perhaps we may be sorry, and grieve a little; but that bitter lamentation and those mournful tears have their origin in our apprehensions that he whom we loved is deprived of all the advantages of life, and is sensible of his loss. And we are led to this opinion by nature, without any arguments or any instruction.
People were seeking out meaning well ahead of any formal philosophies, and they were guided by understanding long before they had developed a method for the sciences. They did this simply because they possessed a human nature, endowed with mind and guided by deliberate purpose, even as they may not have done so in quite the same way as we do, with our many generations of accumulated theories and measurements.
When Cicero speaks of the contrast between natural reason and natural philosophy, between immediate awareness and systematic reflection, I do not assume any opposition between them. Quite the contrary, I think of the latter as only possible through the inspiration of the former, abstractions made possible through an initial sense of wonder. Accordingly, a language of myth need not contradict a language of science, just as faith is not the enemy of reason.
While experiments in laboratories offer remarkable insights, it is important to remember that the experience of life is not limited to experiments in laboratories. All the tabulations and equations in the world are useless without aiming at an ultimate measure.
All these “primitive” spiritual teachings, Cicero suggests, seemed to share a common belief in the permanence of souls, under the greater care of the Divine. Furthermore, these convictions first arose from natural inclinations, not from the force of legal codes or the authority of scholars. Ancestors were honored because we felt an urgent need to be joined to them, and the gods were worshipped because we felt an urgent need to find comfort in the absolute.
For all the wide variety of religious expressions, some familiar and some unfamiliar, these appear to be common strands, woven through our shared history.
We should not be too quick to reject the importance of such natural desires, and it is worth considering whether their innate presence within us might point to the existence of their proper objects. Perhaps we crave immortality for the simple reason that we really were made to be immortal, and we long for God precisely because we were made for God.
I’m not sure if this could be presented as any sort of hard proof, though I don’t imagine that is Cicero’s intention. The argument has more in common with a likelihood of induction than a certainty of deduction, a general observation that wherever there is a genuine want, nature tends to provide some form of fulfillment for that want. At the very least, it can make us more open to the idea that nature doesn’t act in vain.
It is far more at home in a larger philosophical and theological context, as when Thomas Aquinas discusses our happiness as a final cause, or when C.S. Lewis speaks of our constant yearning for joy. In fact, when first reading this chapter from Cicero, I thought of Lewis right away, and how his account in Mere Christianity comes across as a very close relative:
Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for these desires exists.
A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food.
A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water.
Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex.
If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.
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