Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 1.37

M. But what occasion is there to philosophize here in a matter with which we see that philosophy is but little concerned? 

 

How often have not only our generals but whole armies, rushed on certain death! But if it had been a thing to be feared, Lucius Brutus would never have fallen in fight, to prevent the return of that tyrant whom he had expelled; nor would Decius the father have been slain in fighting with the Latins; nor would his son, when engaged with the Etruscans, nor his grandson with Pyrrhus have exposed themselves to the enemy’s darts. 

 

Spain would never have seen, in one campaign, the Scipios fall fighting for their country; nor would the plains of Cannae have witnessed the death of Paulus and Geminus, or Venusia that of Marcellus; nor would the Latins have beheld the death of Albinus, nor the Leucanians that of Gracchus. 

 

But are any of these miserable now? No, they were not so even at the first moment after they had breathed their last; nor can anyone be miserable after he has lost all sensation. 

 

“Oh, but the mere circumstance of being without sensation is miserable!”

 

It might be so if being without sensation were the same thing as wanting it; but as it is evident there can be nothing of any kind in that which has no existence, what can there be afflicting to that which can neither feel want nor be sensible of anything? 

 

We might be said to have repeated this over too often, only that here lies all that the soul shudders at from the fear of death. For whoever can clearly apprehend that which is as manifest as the light—that when both soul and body are consumed, and there is a total destruction, then that which was an animal becomes nothing—will clearly see that there is no difference between a Hippocentaur, which never had existence, and King Agamemnon, and that Marcus Camillus is no more concerned about this present civil war than I was at the sacking of Rome, when he was living. 

—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 1.37

 

There will be no use, of course, in considering this question merely as an armchair philosopher, and it is necessary to observe how people, and especially the best of people, go about approaching the challenge in their daily living. It isn’t that theory is somehow in opposition to practice, but rather that any theory can only be confirmed in practice. 

 

When push comes to shove, what will the conscientious man live for? Indeed, what will he die for? Here is an important clue, for while those who take their duties seriously may not deliberately seek out death, they will gladly surrender life for something far greater. 

 

Living well is about spending what we possess honorably, not about clinging to survival greedily. 

 

Here Cicero refers to several Roman heroes who feared vice far more than they feared death, and who stood for principle before they aimed at longevity. Each culture will have its own versions, and I need look no further than the local veteran’s memorial down the street to find similar examples. 

 

Nor must the instances be limited to martial courage, since the most ordinary and humble circumstances will still reveal how people can be deeply committed to offering their lives for the sake of giving purpose to their lives. 

 

When I read through a list like Cicero’s, I don’t just see a catalogue of distant historical figures; I relate to them as personal role models. A student of mine recently wondered how I could manage to remember the stories behind so many ancient characters, and he speculated that I must have spent years and years memorizing history books. 

 

I felt flattered for a moment, but the fact is that my classical knowledge is far weaker than that of my father’s or my grandfather’s generations. What little I do know is also not due to any diligent study, and instead arises from moral associations. If I reflect upon a certain excellence of temperament in a king, a poet, or a sage, and I imprint that particular significance on my mind, then the names, the places, and the dates follow without effort. 

 

And what almost all such paragons share is a sense of being servants to the true, the good, and the beautiful. To use a popular expression, they would happily “take a bullet” for the boss. 

 

They were satisfied to have done right, and they did not complain about how little time they were given. If, furthermore, we grant the Auditor’s doubts about any form of an afterlife, they are also feeling no grief now, because there can be no sensation where there is no longer any life. 

 

Yes, the text has belabored the point, yet I can think of many instances where I had to have something explained to me over and over before the concepts finally settled in. Simply put, if the soul disappears along with body, then a dead person is no more real than a mythical beast, and the awareness of those who departed in the past does not continue into the present. 

—Reflection written in 5/1996 

IMAGE: Battle of Centaurs and Wild Beasts, from Hadrian's Villa (c. 120-130 A.D.)