About the Work
The Tusculan Disputations is a philosophical work by the Roman statesman and orator Marcus Tullius Cicero, presented in the form of five books or dialogues. The work records a series of discussions that took place over five days at Cicero’s villa near Tusculum, a country estate where he retired from public life. Each day, a friend proposed a subject for debate, and Cicero, employing the Socratic method of arguing against another’s opinion, undertook to examine and refute the position presented.
The five books address distinct philosophical questions: the first concerns the contempt of death, the second the bearing of pain, the third the grief of mind, the fourth other perturbations of the mind, and the fifth whether virtue alone is sufficient for a happy life. The work is addressed to Cicero’s friend Brutus, who encouraged him to write on philosophy.
The edition described in the notes is an 1877 Harper & Brothers publication, translated chiefly by C. D. Yonge. The introduction explains that Cicero wrote the work in his sixty-second year, following the death of his daughter Tullia in childbed. Grieving and having withdrawn from public business, Cicero retired to Asterra, a country house near Antium, and devoted himself to philosophical study, publishing the de Finibus and the Tusculan Disputations in this period.
The work also includes, in the later portions of the volume, Cicero’s treatise On the Nature of the Gods, which is presented as a separate dialogue examining theological questions, along with fragments and a section titled “Scipio’s Dream” drawn from Cicero’s Republic. The Republic had been previously translated by Francis Barham in 1841 and was revised for this edition, while the translation of On the Nature of the Gods is usually ascribed to Benjamin Franklin.
Context
Cicero composed the Tusculan Disputations at a moment of personal and political crisis. In A.U.C. 708, in his sixty-second year, his beloved daughter Tullia died in childbirth. This loss, compounded by his withdrawal from the political arena—the commonwealth being governed by one man, as he puts it—led him to seek consolation and occupation in philosophy. He had already published the de Finibus and now turned to the discussions held at his Tusculan villa as the basis for this new work.
The philosophical landscape Cicero engages with is rich and varied. He draws on the traditions of the Academy, the school founded by Plato and revived by Arcesilaus and Carneades, which emphasized the withholding of assent and the pursuit of probability rather than certainty. He engages extensively with Stoic thought, particularly on questions of virtue, emotion, and the nature of the gods, and he criticizes the Epicureans for their identification of good with pleasure. He also references the Peripatetic tradition of Aristotle and his successors, including Theophrastus.
Cicero’s project is explicitly patriotic: he seeks to bring Greek philosophy to Rome, to raise philosophy from neglect in Latin letters, and to demonstrate that Romans can engage with these questions in their own language. He compares himself to Aristotle, who joined philosophy with eloquence after the rhetorician Isocrates had established his school. He urges the transportation of philosophy to Rome, arguing that it is expedient and not to be limited to a few subjects.
The work also reflects Cicero’s method: he held “schools” at his villa in a gallery called the Academy, where a listener would propose a subject for debate, and Cicero would argue against the position taken. These five conferences were later written up as the Tusculan Disputations. The dialogue form allows Cicero to explore multiple perspectives, though the character M. (presumably Cicero himself) consistently guides the argument toward his preferred conclusions.
Structure of the Book
The Tusculan Disputations is organized into five books, each corresponding to one day of discussion at Cicero’s Tusculan villa. The structure follows a consistent pattern: a friend (designated A.) proposes a thesis, and Cicero (designated M.) argues against it, often leading the interlocutor to revise or abandon the initial position.
Book I, “On the Contempt of Death,” opens with Cicero addressing Brutus on the neglect of philosophy in Rome and his determination to remedy this. The dialogue proper begins with A. asserting that death seems an evil. M. presses him through a series of arguments: if the dead are nowhere, they do not exist and cannot be miserable; death is either a change to an eternal home or a release from sensation; and it is an appointment of the Gods or nature. The book examines various philosophical opinions on the nature of the soul—whether it is the heart, the blood, the brain, fire, harmony, a number, or a fifth element—and concludes that whichever opinion is true, death cannot be an evil. The book closes with a peroration citing examples of noble deaths and the words of Socrates, who hoped for either an undisturbed sleep-like death or a journey to meet the heroes of old.
Book II, “On Bearing Pain,” begins with M. addressing Brutus on the expediency of philosophy. A. states that he now looks on pain as the greatest evil, but M. leads him to admit that infamy is worse. The book examines the nature of pain, the examples of those who have borne it nobly, and the role of honor and virtue in overcoming it. M. argues that a lofty soul that despises pain is most excellent, deriving satisfaction from itself, and that no theatre for virtue equals consciousness of it. He criticizes philosophers like Aristippus, Epicurus, and Hieronymus the Rhodian for fearing pain, and cites the example of Posidonius, who lectured on the goodness of honesty while suffering from gout.
Book III, “On Grief of Mind,” opens with Cicero asking why bodily medicine is sought after but mental medicine is not. The mind, he argues, judges itself when its judging faculty is diseased; nature gave feeble rays of light, extinguished by evil habits. Philosophy is the medicine of the soul. The dialogue examines whether a wise man is subject to grief, with M. arguing that grief is inconsistent with courage and that whoever is subject to grief is subject to fear and a servile state. The book treats every perturbation, first in the manner of the Stoics, then more largely.
Book IV, “On Other Perturbations of the Mind,” continues the examination of the emotions, providing a detailed Stoic taxonomy of perturbations, their definitions, and their sub-species, followed by a critique of Peripatetic views on the usefulness of these emotions. The book also includes a historical account of philosophy’s arrival in Rome.
Book V, “Whether Virtue Alone Be Sufficient for a Happy Life,” defends the antiquity of philosophy and examines whether virtue is sufficient for happiness. A. denies that virtue is sufficient, arguing that one can live well even on the rack, but the rack is inconsistent with a happy life. M. responds that turbulent motions of the mind leave no room for a happy life, and that those free from perturbations are happy. The book engages with the views of Antiochus, Aristo, Theophrastus, Epicurus, and others, and concludes with Cicero’s plan to write down the five days’ discussions and send them to Brutus.
The volume also includes the treatise On the Nature of the Gods, which is structured as a dialogue among several speakers—Velleius the Epicurean, Balbus the Stoic, and Cotta the Academic—examining theological questions. This work is followed by fragments and “Scipio’s Dream,” a portion of Cicero’s Republic in which Scipio Africanus appears in a dream to his grandson and discourses on the heavens, the immortality of the soul, and the rewards of virtue.
Detailed Section-by-Section Summary
The Publisher’s Note and the Setting of the Tusculan Disputations
The 1877 Harper & Brothers edition opens with a publisher’s note, acknowledging the translation chiefly by C. D. Yonge, with the Republic previously translated by Francis Barham and revised, and the On the Nature of the Gods attributed to Benjamin Franklin. The Introduction establishes the context: in A.U.C. 708, at age sixty-two, Cicero retired from public life after the death of his daughter Tullia in childbed, retreating to his country house near Antium to devote himself to philosophy. He published de Finibus and then the Tusculan Disputations, a work structured around five days of philosophical “schools” held with friends in the gallery of his Tusculan villa, called the Academy. The five books are summarized: contempt of death, supporting pain, appeasing complaints, moderating passions, and virtue’s sufficiency for happiness.
Book I: The Contempt of Death — The Dialogue Begins
Cicero addresses Brutus, having retired from advocacy and senatorial duties, and argues that while Romans surpass Greeks in customs, laws, and military affairs, Greece excelled in learning. He notes that poetry came late to Rome, with Livius publishing a play about 510 years after the city’s founding, and that philosophy has been neglected in Latin, a gap he undertakes to fill. He compares himself to Aristotle, who joined philosophy with eloquence, and describes holding a school at Tusculum using the Socratic method. The dialogue opens with A. stating that death seems an evil; M. (Cicero) presses the point, and A. denies believing in the mythological punishments of Cerberus, Cocytus, or Tantalus. M. argues that if the dead are nowhere, they do not exist and cannot be miserable, and he counters A.‘s examples of Crassus and Pompey by asserting that “not to exist after having existed” implies existence. M. proposes to teach that death is not only no evil but a good.
The Nature of the Soul and the Origin of the Shades
M. examines what death is, surveying opinions on the soul: some think it departs the body, others that both perish. He catalogues views from the heart (hence excordes, vecordes), Empedocles’s blood, the brain, Zeno’s fire, Aristoxenus’s harmony, Xenocrates’s number, Plato’s threefold soul, Dicæarchus’s denial of any soul, Aristotle’s fifth nature (endelecheia), and Democritus’s atoms. M. argues that whichever opinion is true, death cannot be an evil: if corporeal, the soul perishes; if air, it dissolves; if fire, it is extinguished; if harmony, it is put out of tune. A. desires to believe souls go to heaven, and M. cites antiquity, the Casci, pontifical rites, and deified men like Romulus, Hercules, and Castor and Pollux as evidence of universal consent for immortality. He notes that nature gives silent judgment for immortality, as men plant for future ages and found laws, and that poets seek glory after death, as Phidias put his likeness in Minerva’s shield. M. explains the origin of the shades below: bodies fall to the ground (humus, hence humari), leading to the idea the dead remain underground, an error increased by poets and Appius.
Death Avoids Calamities and the Examples of the Brave
M. argues that death avoids calamities, as people irrationally hope for happiness despite the possibility of disaster. He asserts the dead, having no existence, cannot “want” anything, and cites heroes who rushed to certain death: L. Brutus, Decius the father, his son, and grandson, the Scipios, Paulus, Geminus, Marcellus, Albinus, and Gracchus. He compares a dead man to a non-existent creature like a Hippocentaur, concluding the dead are insensible and cannot be miserable. He questions why Camillus should be affected by events 350 years later, arguing a wise man acts for posterity from virtue, not glory, and compares death to sleep, citing Endymion’s fable. He dismisses the folly of dying “before our time,” as nature lends life without a fixed repayment date, and references Aristotle’s insect near the river Hypanis to show the brevity of human life compared to eternity.
The Deaths of Socrates, Theramenes, and Other Sages
M. urges despising follies and founding happiness on virtue, praising Theramenes, who, imprisoned by the thirty tyrants, drank poison and cheerfully toasted his enemy Critias. He recounts Socrates’ speech from Plato, where Socrates hopes for either an undisturbed sleep-like death or a journey to meet Minos, Rhadamanthus, Æacus, Triptolemus, Orpheus, Musæus, Homer, and Hesiod, and states nothing bad can befall a good man. M. praises Socrates’ soul and his maxim of affirming nothing, and cites an unnamed Lacedæmonian who thanked Lycurgus for a fine he could pay without borrowing. He mentions Leonidas and the Spartans at Thermopylæ, a Lacedæmonian woman who bore a son to die for his country, and Theodorus the Cyrenean, who told Lysimachus it made no difference whether he rotted in the air or underground. He recounts Socrates’ words to Criton about burial, Diogenes’ request to be thrown anywhere, and Anaxagoras’s statement that all places are equidistant from the infernal regions.
Errors about Burial and the Peroration on Death
M. discusses errors about burial, citing Achilles dragging Hector, Hecuba’s lament, and verses from Accius and Ennius, and notes the customs of Egyptians, Persians, Magi, and Hyrcanians. He concludes that the dead are insensible and that glory follows virtue like a shadow, citing Lycurgus, Solon, Themistocles, and Epaminondas, and mentions the speech to Diagoras the Rhodian, who was told to die after his sons won at the Olympic games. A. agrees death is not an evil, and M. gives a peroration, citing Cleobis and Biton, Trophonius and Agamedes, Silenus’s words to Midas, and Euripides. He mentions Crantor’s story of Terinæsus of Elysia, and Alcidamas’s praise of death, and lists Erechtheus, Codrus, Menoeceus, Iphigenia, Harmodius, Aristogiton, Leonidas, and Epaminondas as examples. He contrasts Ennius’s and Solon’s verses on mourning, concluding that death is either a change to an eternal home or a release from sensation, and is an appointment of the Gods or nature.
Book II: On Bearing Pain — The Dialogue on Pain and Infamy
The second book begins with M. addressing Brutus on philosophy, arguing it is expedient and not to be limited to a few subjects. He defends his writing against critics, mentioning his “Hortensius” and “Academic Question,” and urges transporting philosophy to Rome. A. states he now looks on pain as the greatest evil, but M. leads him to admit infamy is worse. M. criticizes philosophers like Aristippus, Epicurus, and Hieronymus the Rhodian for fearing pain.
The Exertion of the Soul and the Example of the Brave
M. argues that physical exertion, like straining an engine, increases force in speaking, running, or boxing; he saw Marcus Antonius’s knees touch the ground while speaking vehemently on the Varian law. If groans in pain strengthen the mind, use them; but if they are lamentation or unmanly weeping, they are unbecoming. This exertion of soul applies to anger and lust, not just pain. Considering how noble it is to bear pain helps, as we are naturally desirous of honor. The Decii rushed into battle seeing enemies’ swords, valuing honor over death, and Epaminondas did not groan, as he left his country triumphing over the Lacedæmonians.
The Philosophers Who Failed and Those Who Endured
At home, philosophers seldom go to war. Dionysius of Heraclea, having learned fortitude from Zeno, renounced it in pain from kidney trouble, crying that his former ideas on pain were false. He told Cleanthes that his own inability to bear pain after years of philosophy proved pain is an evil. Cleanthes struck his foot and quoted a verse from the Epigonæ, “Amphiaraus, hear’st thou this below?” meaning Zeno. Posidonius, however, when Pompey visited him at Rhodes despite a gout fit, lectured that nothing was good but what was honest, saying to pain, “I will never acknowledge you an evil.”
Consistency in Bearing Pain and the Conclusion of Book II
Those in gymnastic exercises, riding, and hunting decline no pain, and candidates run through fire for a vote. Africanus valued Xenophon’s saying that honor makes labor lighter for a general. The illiterate vulgar are led by report, but you must use your own judgment. A lofty soul that despises pain is most excellent, deriving satisfaction from itself, and no theatre for virtue equals consciousness of it. Bearing pain should be consistent: many brave men in war cannot bear disease, as they act on inclination, not reason. Barbarians fight stoutly but bemoan sickness; Grecians bear sickness but not enemies. Nothing is consistent without reason. If inclination overcomes pain, pain is either no evil or a trifling one got the better of by virtue. Think of this night and day; it applies to fortune’s storms, with the retreat from yesterday’s discussion, like a god advising a man pursued by pirates to throw himself overboard, as a dolphin took up Arion of Methymna, or Neptune’s horses conveyed Pelops. If pains are not worth enduring, you see where to betake yourself. A. agrees, freed from two dreaded things, and M. proposes rhetoric tomorrow, but philosophy will continue.
Book III: On Grief — The Medicine of the Soul
Book III begins with Cicero asking Brutus why bodily medicine is sought after, but mental medicine is not. The mind judges itself when its judging faculty is diseased. Nature gave feeble rays of light, extinguished by evil habits. Seeds of virtues are natural, but we suck in error with our nurse’s milk; tutors and poets add errors, and the people’s unanimous wrong opinions overwhelm us. Glory is the echo of virtue, but popular fame imitates it and commends wicked actions. Some men, ignorant of real excellence, have destroyed their country. There are more disorders of mind than body, and they are more dangerous. The mind, disordered, is in constant error, as Ennius says. The mind invented bodily medicines, so it can cure itself. Philosophy is the medicine of the soul; we must exert our own energy. Cicero has spoken of philosophy in his Hortensius and written on its branches; these books record discussions at his Tusculan villa. This book covers the third day, when they came down into the Academy, and A. proposed a subject.
The Wise Man and Perturbations
A. thinks a wise man is subject to grief. M. asks if also to fears, lusts, anger, which Greeks call pathê. M. calls them perturbations, not diseases. A. agrees a wise man is subject to these. M. says wisdom is of small account if it differs little from madness. The ancestors before Socrates called commotion madness, meaning sickness of mind. Philosophers call all perturbations diseases; all fools are diseased, therefore mad. Soundness of mind depends on tranquillity. They called a soul devoid of light “being out of one’s mind.” The Stoics preserved Socrates’ opinion that all silly people are unsound. Wisdom is soundness; folly is insanity. The Latin words are better than Greek. Those run away by lust or anger have quitted command over themselves; anger is lust of revenge. The Greeks call this mania, but Romans define it better, distinguishing insania from furor. Furor is what Greeks call melancholia. Athamas, Alcmæon, Ajax, and Orestes were raving; the Twelve Tables said a raving person could not manage his affairs. A wise man may be subject to furor but not insania.
The Proposal to Pluck Up Grief by the Roots
A. maintains a wise man is liable to grief. M. says we are not offspring of flints; Crantor of the Academy praised not insensibility but retaining sensation. M. proposes to pluck up every fibre of misery’s roots, submitting to philosophy for a cure. He will treat every perturbation, first in the manner of the Stoics, then more largely. A man of courage is full of faith, not confident (a bad sense). He who is full of faith is under no fear; grief is inconsistent with courage. Whoever is subject to grief is subject to fear, and to a servile state. The brave man is the only wise man; therefore grief cannot befall him. A great soul is invincible and despises all things. The mind’s office is to use reason well; grief is a perturbation that must be eradicated, and the wise man, who relies on reason, cannot be subject to it.
The Defense of Philosophy’s Antiquity and the Fifth Day’s Debate
The discussion turns to the antiquity of philosophy, defending both its substance and its name. The name itself is said to derive from the ancients’ knowledge of causes, and the seven sages were called wise men by the Greeks and by “us.” Traditional figures like Lycurgus, Homer, Ulysses, and Nestor are cited as wise men of old. The myths of Atlas, Prometheus, and Cepheus are dismissed as erroneous fables, mistaken interpretations of their astronomical knowledge. The title “wise man” persisted until Pythagoras, who, according to Heraclides Ponticus, when asked his art by Leon, prince of the Phliasii, declared himself a philosopher. He compared life to the Greek games: some seek glory, some profit, but the best are the spectators who observe. Thus, philosophers are spectators of nature.
Pythagoras not only enlarged the name but the thing itself, adorning “Great Greece.” Ancient philosophy studied numbers, motions, and the beginnings and ends of things until Socrates, a pupil of Archelaus, who was a disciple of Anaxagoras. Socrates first brought philosophy down from the heavens into cities and families, examining life, morals, and good and evil. His methods, immortalized by Plato, gave rise to many sects. The speaker adheres to the one Socrates followed, concealing his own opinion and delivering others from errors by discovering probability, a custom adopted by Carneades. The discussion for the fifth day is then proposed.
The Sufficiency of Virtue for Happiness
A. denies that virtue is sufficient for a happy life, while M. affirms that Brutus thinks so. A. argues one can live well—with constancy, dignity, wisdom, and courage—even on the rack, but the rack is inconsistent with a happy life. M. asks if happiness is left outside the prison while virtues are surrendered to the executioner. A. dismisses these Stoic arguments as like light wines that will not bear water, citing Marcus Atilius, Quintus Cæpio, and Marcus Aquilius as good men who were not happy, and argues that prudence restrains happiness from throwing itself into torments.
M. counters that turbulent motions of the mind leave no room for a happy life. One who fears pain, death, poverty, ignominy, blindness, or slavery is miserable. One broken by banishment, mourning, or loss of children is miserable. One inflamed with lust or vainly elated is miserable. Those alarmed by no fears, wasted by no griefs, and provoked by no lusts are happy. A calm sea is like a placid mind, and if virtue produces these effects, virtue can make men happy.
A. grants that those free from perturbations are happy, but says the other proposition is not in a fit state for discussion. M. declares the dispute is over. He contrasts mathematicians, who take proved things for granted, with philosophers, who gather everything relating to a subject. The Stoics argue separately whether virtue is sufficient for a happy life, though it follows from nothing being good but what is honorable. Philosophy promises to arm one against fortune. Xerxes offered a reward for a new pleasure but was not satisfied, and M. wishes someone could be engaged by a reward to establish this belief.
The Inconsistency of Other Philosophers
A. says Brutus, on the authority of Aristo and Antiochus, does not see that if a happy life consists in virtue, nothing can be good but virtue. M. says he discussed this with Antiochus and Aristo at Athens. Antiochus held virtue was sufficient but not perfectly sufficient for happiness, as many things are named from their predominant portion. M. finds this inconsistent: if anything is wanting to a happy man, he cannot be happy. If there are three kinds of evils, and one is oppressed with two, can he be called happy?
Theophrastus could not maintain his position. Having laid down that stripes, torments, ruin of country, banishment, and loss of children make men miserable, he durst not use high expressions. He is attacked for his book on a happy life, where he says one on the wheel cannot be completely happy, and for commending in his Callisthenes: “Fortune, not wisdom, rules the life of man.” M. says this is consistent with his premises. Epicurus commends spare diet, but it is for Socrates or Antisthenes to say so, not one who confines all good to pleasure. He denies one can live pleasantly unless living honestly, but he measures this by pleasure. Metrodorus said: “I have anticipated you, Fortune; I have caught you, and cut off every access.” This would be excellent in Aristo the Chian or Zeno the Stoic, but not for Metrodorus, who confines good to the body.
The duty of one arguing accurately is to consider what is said consistently. M. calls good men those provided with every virtue, and happy men those possessed of good without any alloy of evil. Virtue cannot attain this if there is anything good besides itself. Poverty, obscurity, solitude, loss of friends, pain, blindness, ruin of country, banishment, and slavery would be evils. M. does not agree with Brutus, nor with Aristotle, Speusippus, Xenocrates, or Polemon, who reckon these as evils yet say a wise man is always happy. Epicurus thinks a wise man always happy, but this is inconsistent with saying pain is the greatest evil.
A. says M. is inconsistent, citing his fourth book on Good and Evil, where he seemed to show Zeno and the Peripatetics differ only about new words. M. says they live from hand to mouth, saying whatever strikes their mind with probability. He is not inquiring if Zeno and Aristo’s opinion is true, but admitting it.
The Manageability of Blindness and Deafness
Cicero cites examples of blind men who lived productive lives: Cn. Aufidius, a blind former praetor, gave opinions in the Senate, assisted friends, and wrote a Greek history. Diodorus the Stoic, who lived at Cicero’s house, taught geometry despite being blind, by directing his students on where to draw lines. Asclepiades of Eretria, a philosopher, when asked what inconvenience his blindness caused, replied it only cost him an extra servant. Democritus, though blind, knew the difference between good and evil, just and unjust, and believed intense mental application was hindered by visual objects, allowing him to “travel through all infinity.” Homer, also blind, described battles and places so vividly that readers can “see” what he could not. Poets depict the blind augur Tiresias as wise and not bewailing his blindness. Homer’s Polyphemus, a monster, speaks with his ram and counts himself fortunate for being able to touch what he pleases, showing his lack of understanding.
M. Crassus was hard of hearing, but was more troubled by hearing himself ill-spoken of. Those who cannot understand Greek or Latin are “deaf reciprocally” to each other’s languages. The deaf are spared unpleasant sounds, such as a grating saw, a hog being killed, or the roaring sea. They can enjoy reading verses more than hearing them sung, and can converse with themselves. The deaf can be referred to the pleasures of sight.
Extreme Suffering and the Retreat of Death
If all misfortunes—blindness, deafness, sharp pain—meet in one person, there is a “retreat at hand”: death, a shelter where one is forever insensible. Theodorus told Lysimachus, who threatened him with death, that Lysimachus had acquired the power of a “Spanish fly.” When Perses entreated Paulus not to lead him in triumph, Paulus said that was in Perses’s own power, meaning he could kill himself. Cicero recommends the Greek banquet custom—”Drink, or leave the company”—as a model for life: one should flee from injuries of fortune that one cannot bear.
Epicurus and Hieronymus, who deny virtue has power, still maintain a wise man is always happy. If they can say this, the Socratic and Platonic philosophers can do more. Carneades acted as an “honorary arbitrator” in disputes between the Peripatetics and Stoics, finding no real ground for disagreement when things were considered by their reality, not names. Cicero plans to write down the five days’ discussions and send the five books to his friend Brutus, who provoked him to write on philosophy. He finds this the best comfort for his own afflictions.
The Nature of the Gods: An Introduction
The text transitions to a new work addressed to Brutus, introducing the question of the nature of the Gods as obscure and difficult. The variety of opinions on the Gods leads to the inference that ignorance is the origin of philosophy and that the Academic refusal to assent to uncertain things is prudent. Protagoras doubted the Gods’ existence; Diagoras the Melian and Theodorus of Cyrene believed there were none. Others affirm the Gods exist but disagree on their forms, abodes, and whether they are inactive or govern the world.
If the Gods take no notice of human affairs, piety, sanctity, and religion are of no avail, and their subversion would cause confusion in life. Faith, human associations, and justice might perish with piety. Other philosophers believe the world is governed by the Gods’ will and that they provide for mankind’s preservation through fruits, seasons, and weather. Carneades has advanced arguments against these opinions, and since opinions are so varied, it is impossible for more than one to be right.
Cicero defends his sudden turn to philosophy, saying he has studied it from youth. He names his teachers: Diodorus, Philo, Antiochus, and Posidonius. He writes because he is disengaged from public business, the commonwealth being governed by one man, and to introduce Greek philosophy in Latin. He also writes to ease a “melancholy disposition” and “heavy oppression of fortune.” Those who want his private opinion are too curious; reason is to be sought, not authority. He criticizes the Pythagoreans for relying on the master’s authority (“He himself has said it”). He denies his Academic philosophy is neglected, tracing it from Socrates, revived by Arcesilaus, and confirmed by Carneades. The Academy does not believe nothing is true, but that falsehoods are blended with truths, so a wise man directs his conduct by what is probable.
The Refutation of Epicurean Images of the Gods
The speaker censures those who infer a divine essence from the world’s order and beauty, noting their aim even if mistaken. He challenges the claim of an imprinted Deity, mocking a bearded Jupiter and helmeted Minerva. He contrasts this with the vulgar who assign Gods limbs and weapons, and notes Egyptians held beasts sacred for benefits: the ibis kills serpents from Lybia, preventing pestilence; he mentions the ichneumon, crocodile, and cat. Barbarians honored beasts for benefits, whereas Epicurean Gods confer none and are idle.
Epicurus, like indolent boys, prefers idleness; but boys play on holidays. The Deity is supposed inactive, lest motion threaten happiness, which encourages laziness. If the Deity has human form, where is his abode? What is his course of life? Inanimate natures have stations: earth lowest, then water, air, fire highest. Some creatures inhabit earth, water, or both; some are born in fire, fluttering in furnaces. The speaker asks where the Deity lives, what moves him, what he affects, how he is happy and eternal. He fears a false foundation, citing the claim that the Deity’s form is perceptible by mind, not sense, neither solid nor invariable, discerned by similitude and transition, with images flowing from atoms.
If Gods exist only in thought, what difference from a Hippocentaur? Other philosophers call such mental conformations vain motions; the Epicureans call them “approach and entrance of images.” The speaker imagines T. Gracchus haranguing in the Capitol about M. Octavius—a vain motion, but the images of Gracchus and Octavius are said to be present. The same applies to the Deity. Even if images exist, why must the form be happy or eternal? This argument is from Democritus, reproved by many. Images of Homer, Archilochus, Romulus, Numa, Pythagoras, and Plato come to mind, but not in their original form. Aristotle says Orpheus the poet never existed; Orphic verse was by Cercops, a Pythagorean. Yet Orpheus’s image appears. Why do we imagine Scyllas and Chimæras, or unseen men and cities? Why do images come in sleep uninvited?
The affair is ridiculous; images are imposed on minds, not just eyes. The claim of a transition of images flowing in crowds, so one must be perceived, is unintelligible even to its asserters. How prove images are uninterrupted or eternal? A constant supply of atoms does not make them eternal. The speaker cites equilibration ([Greek: Isonomia]): as there is mortal nature, so immortal; as men are mortal, some immortal; as some arise from earth, some from water. But let causes preserve that exist themselves; he cannot conceive these Gods. Atoms could impel one another but never impart form, figure, color, or animation, so immortality is not demonstrated.
The Gods’ Lack of Virtue and Happiness
Without virtue there is no happiness; virtue consists in action; the Deity does nothing, so is void of virtue and unhappy. What good things does he have? Sensual pleasures, since Epicureans know no mental delight apart from the body. Velleius is unlike some Epicureans ashamed of Epicurus’s words avowing no good separate from wanton pleasures. The speaker asks what food, drink, music, flowers, touch, or odors will fill the Gods. Poets give nectar, ambrosia, Hebe, Ganymede. Epicurus provides nothing. Men are better constituted for happiness, enjoying varied pleasures. Philo, of the Academy, remembered Epicurus’s sentences; Metrodorus blamed his brother Timocrates for not measuring everything by the belly. The speaker shows the Gods are destitute of pleasure, hence not happy.
Freedom from pain is insufficient. The Deity meditates on his own happiness, thinking “It is very well with me.” He should fear destruction from the everlasting incursion of atoms and floating images. Thus he is neither happy nor eternal. Epicurus wrote on sanctity and piety, but speaks like Coruncanius or Scævola, high-priests, not a man tearing up religion by the roots—not with hands like Xerxes, but with arguments. Why worship Gods who regard nothing and do nothing? Their nature is glorious, but what glory in contemplating only its own happiness? Piety is justice towards the Gods; without benefits, no debt. Sanctity is knowledge of worship; but why worship if no good is received or expected?
Admiration of a nature with nothing excellent is baseless. Freedom from superstition is easy when belief in the Gods’ power is renounced. Diagoras or Theodorus denied the Gods; Protagoras doubted. These opinions destroy superstition and religion. Those who say the doctrine of Gods was a politician’s invention subvert religion. Prodicus the Chian held everything beneficial should be numbered among the Gods. Others taught Deities were valiant men deified after death; Euhemerus, translated by Ennius, treated of the deaths and burials of the Gods, subverting religion. The speaker mentions Eleusina, Samothrace, and Lemnos, whose mysteries, if explained, would reveal nature, not Gods.
Democritus, from whose fountains Epicurus watered his garden, is inferior to his acuteness. He thinks images endowed with divinity, or principles and minds in the universe are Gods, or animated images doing good or harm, or images encompassing the universe—all unworthy of adoration. Epicurus, divesting Gods of power to do good, extinguishes all.
The Cosmological Argument for Divine Governance
The passage argues that the four elements—earth, water, air, fire—undergo reciprocal changes, preserving the universe’s union. This perpetual motion proves nature governs the cosmos, since the universe contains all beings and their seeds; denying this would be like saying a man’s teeth and beard are nature’s work but the man himself is not, making the effect greater than the cause. Nature produces the best possible effect from existing elements; nothing could be better, and attempts to improve it would worsen it or aim at impossibilities. The universe cannot be void of reason since art cannot perfect anything without it, and nature’s works exceed art’s.
A sphere made by Posidonius showing celestial motions would convince even Scythians or Britons of rational design. Archimedes’ celestial globe shows more knowledge than nature allegedly does in causing motions, though the copy is infinitely beneath the original. The shepherd in Attius, seeing the Argonauts’ ship, first thinks it inanimate, then recognizes intelligence—as philosophers should recognize a ruler and architect of the universe. Aristotle’s cave analogy: men underground all their lives, emerging to see earth, seas, heavens, stars, and their regular courses, would conclude Gods exist and these are their mighty works.
The passage rejects that atoms—without color, quality, or sense—could form the world by fortuitous concourse, comparing this to letters thrown on ground forming Ennius’s Annals. If atoms could make a world, why not a porch, temple, house, or city? The earth sits in the universe’s middle, surrounded by air, then ether. The sun, far larger than earth, benefits rather than harms. Stars’ revolutions, the moon’s phases and eclipses, and planets’ varied motions demonstrate divine reason.
The Stellar Catalog and Stoic Cosmology
A detailed description of constellations follows, from Aratus: the Bears (Cynosura and Helice, called Septentriones), the Dragon, Engonasis, the Crown, Ophiuchus treading on Nepa, Boötes with Arcturus, the Virgin with her spike, the Twins, Crab, Lion, Charioteer with the Goat and Kids, the Bull with Hyades, Cepheus, Cassiopea, Andromeda, the Horse, Ram, Fishes, Perseus, Pleiades, Lyre, Bird, Aquarius, Capricorn, Scorpion, Archer, Eagle, Dolphin, Orion, Dog, Hare, Argo, Fetters, Altar, Centaur, Hydra, Goblet, Crow, and Procyon.
The world’s durability comes from all parts tending to the centre, bound by nature as a chain. Stars are round, least liable to injury, fed by vapors from earth and sea. Panætius doubted, but the Stoics conclude a general conflagration will consume all moisture, leaving only fire, an animating power and Deity, from which a new world arises. Saturn, highest, chills; Mars, middle, burns; Jupiter moderates; two planets beneath Mars obey the sun; the moon influences conception, birth, and maturity.
Terrestrial Design and Providence
Vegetables have roots, bark, and tendrils; vines shun cabbages. Animals have hides, fleeces, bristles, feathers, scales, horns, and wings; varied feeding methods; the elephant’s “hand” is its trunk. Predators get strength or swiftness; spiders weave nets; the naker confederates with the prawn for food. Crocodiles, river-tortoises, and serpents seek water after land birth; ducklings hatched under hens forsake them for water. Animals self-medicate: dogs vomit; Egyptian ibis purges; panthers have a remedy against poisoned flesh; Cretan wild goats eat dittany to drop arrows; deer purge with hartswort before fawning. Cuttlefish vomits blood; cramp-fish benumbs; some animals use stink.
Providence perpetuates species; males and females created; seed draws nourishment to form foetus; milk-nourished young instinctively seek the teat; sows and bitches with many young have many teats. Rivers like the Nile water Egypt; the Euphrates fertilizes Mesopotamia; the Indus carries grain and sows the ground.
The Design of the Human Body
The mouth serves eating, drinking, and breathing; teeth cut and grind; the tongue assists; the gullet receives food; the rough artery has a coverlid to prevent choking. The stomach digests; lungs are spongy for respiration; chyle passes through the mesentery to the liver’s gates, then through the hollow vein to the heart, distributed by veins. The heart has two ventricles—one for blood, one for breath. Bones have wonderful joints; nerves proceed from the heart. Humans are upright to behold heavens and know the Gods. Senses are placed in the head as a tower; eyes as sentinels; ears receive ascending sound; nostrils near the mouth for judging food; touch is diffused throughout. Eyes have transparent membranes, eyelids with hair palisades, eyebrows, and cheeks.
The Mortality of All Living Things and the Limits of Stoic Theology
Cotta presses his critique of Stoic theology by arguing that no animal can be immortal. Since all animals are sensitive to pleasure and pain, and since excessive sensations destroy them, they are inherently perishable. Furthermore, their natural inclinations and aversions prove they are subject to destruction, as what they reject is repugnant to their nature. Whether an animal’s substance is simple or compound, it must eventually dissolve, as compound elements return to their natural places.
The Failure of Fire as the Divine Principle
Cotta challenges Balbus’s Stoic view, derived from Heraclitus, that fire is the sole active principle. He argues that bodies perish from lack of moisture or air just as much as from lack of heat, and they can die from excess heat. He questions why fire should be self-animated rather than air, and if fire is sensitive, it must be susceptible to pleasure and pain, making it perishable. The Stoic claim that fire needs nourishment, as Cleanthes explains the sun’s retrograde motion, only proves that whatever can cease to be cannot be eternal.
The Inconceivability of a Virtuous Deity
Cotta argues that a Deity without virtue is inconceivable, yet virtue is useless for a perfect being. Prudence is meaningless to a being with no ill, reason and understanding are for finding obscure things which cannot exist for a Deity, and justice arises only from human civil society. Temperance implies abstaining from pleasures that cannot exist in heaven, and fortitude is shown in afflictions that cannot affect a God.
The Gods of the Ignorant and the Philosophers
Cotta contrasts the gods of the ignorant—Syrian fish, Egyptian beasts, and deified men like Alabandus, Tenes, Leucothea, Hercules, and Romulus—with those of the philosophers. He criticizes the deification of constellations and inanimate things like ships, altars, and crowns. He questions how men became gods, citing multiple Hercules, Jupiters, and other deities from various traditions.
The Absurd Consequences of Stoic Arguments
Using Carneades’ reasoning, Cotta shows that if Jupiter and Neptune are gods, so must be Pluto, and then the infernal rivers, Charon, and Cerberus. If Saturn is a god, so is his father Coelus, and his ancestors and their offspring, including Love, Deceit, and Fear, which is inadmissible. He argues that if Apollo is divine, so must be those of mortal mothers like Hercules and Æsculapius, and he uses the example of Astypalæa worshipping Achilles to question the logic of deification.
Reason as a Pernicious Gift
Cotta argues that reason is the source of all evil as well as good, citing Medea and Atreus as examples of crimes requiring reason. The Gods’ gift of reason is not a benefit, as it is pernicious to many and useful to few. He compares it to a physician prescribing wine to a patient who will die from it, making the Gods blamable for foreseeing its misuse.
Providence and the Fate of the Good
Cotta argues that if the Gods care for mankind, good men would be happy and bad men miserable, but this is not so. He lists good men who suffered—the Scipios, Maximus, Marcellus, Paulus, Regulus, Africanus, Rutilius, Drusus, and Scævola—and wicked men who prospered, such as Marius, Cinna, Dionysius, and Pisistratus. He recounts Dionysius’s impiety and prosperous death, concluding that the prosperity of the wicked destroys the idea of Divine Providence. He rejects the idea that Gods punish children for their fathers’ crimes, calling it unjust.
The Contemplation of the Heavens
Tubero asks Scipio about astronomical science. Scipio responds that contemplation of the heavens diminishes human concerns, making earthly reputation, wealth, and estates seem insignificant. He praises the philosopher who possesses all things by natural right, not civil law, and who views offices as duties rather than rewards. He cites Africanus’s saying: “never so busy as when he did nothing, and never less solitary than when alone.” He contrasts Dionysius, who enslaved citizens, with Archimedes, who made a globe, and argues that true solitude is being among a crowd with no congenial companion. He recounts a philosopher who, shipwrecked, saw geometrical figures in sand and declared them “indications of Man”—not from cultivated soil but from scientific symbols.
The Value of Greek Studies
Lælius declines to answer, citing Tubero’s father’s family friend Sextus, described by Ennius as “wise and ever on his guard.” Sextus quoted Achilles from the Iphigenia against astronomy, preferring earthly matters, yet he thought Pacuvius’s Zethus too hostile to learning, preferring Ennius’s Neoptolemus who philosophizes in moderation. Lælius suggests Greek studies mainly stimulate youth for more important accomplishments.
The Priority of Daily Affairs
Tubero asks what is more important. Lælius says daily affairs matter more, asking why Paulus Æmilius’s child inquires about two suns rather than two senates. The death of Tiberius Gracchus divided the people, and enemies of Scipio, encouraged by P. Crassus and Appius Claudius, then by Metellus and Mucius, split the senate. Lælius dismisses the new sun as harmless.
The Call for Political Discussion
Mucius asks for arguments. Lælius urges discussion of what serves the State, requesting Scipio explain the best form of government. Philus, Manilius, and Mummius approve. Scipio recalls conversing with Panætius and Polybius, and agrees to discuss, neither fully accepting Greek decisions nor preferring his own. Philus praises Scipio’s experience, and Scipio proposes defining terms first—what “commonwealth” means—while avoiding excessive first-principles discussion.
The Definition of a Commonwealth
Scipio defines a commonwealth as “a constitution of the entire people”—not any congregation, but an association bound by justice and utility, arising from natural sociability, not weakness. These unions formed cities. Every commonwealth needs authority: one person (kingdom), delegated rulers (aristocracy), or the multitude (democracy). Each form, if just, is tolerable.
The Flaws of Simple Constitutions
Monarchy deprives others of counsel, aristocracy denies liberty, and democracy levels ranks. Cyrus was just, yet one man’s rule is problematic. Marseilles’ aristocracy shows servitude, and Athens without Areopagus lost its fair appearance. Each form degenerates: Cyrus to Phalaris, Marseilles to the thirty tyrants, and Athenian democracy to mob fury. Revolutions occur, and a mixed government is preferable.
The Preference for a Mixed Constitution
Lælius asks which single form Scipio prefers. Arguments for democracy include liberty requiring equality and law as the bond of society. Against aristocracy, wealth without virtue is deformed. For aristocracy, virtue governing is glorious, and the middle position between monarchy and democracy is best. Democratic equality is unfair, giving equal honor to noble and infamous. Scipio prefers the mixed constitution, but if forced to choose one, he prefers royalty—the king as father, preserving freedom.
The King as Father and the Rule of Conscience
Scipio cites Aratus beginning with Jupiter, noting that all nations recognize one king of gods. He cites Roman history: kings reigned less than four centuries ago, and Romulus reigned six centuries ago. Lælius uses Archytas of Tarentum’s anger story, and Scipio argues that conscience should reign like a king over the mind. Lælius concedes that single just rulers are superior. Scipio cites Tarquin’s cruelty making kingship unpopular, and after expulsion, excessive liberty caused banishments, pillaged estates, mob rule, and secessions. In war, Romans obey magistrates as kings, and the dictator is called “Magister Populi.”
The Cycle of Revolutions
Ennius’s verses praise Romulus as father and god, but the injustice of one man ruined monarchy. Scipio explains revolutions: kings become tyrants, aristocracy or democracy may follow, and popular license is like a flood or conflagration. He renders Plato on excessive liberty: fathers fear sons, masters fear scholars, slaves are unrestrained, and dogs and horses run wild; tyranny arises from this license. Pisistratus of Athens exemplifies tyrants with bodyguards. Power passes like a ball: kings to tyrants, to aristocracy, to democracy, back to tyrants.
The Superiority of the Ancestral Roman Constitution
Scipio prefers a mixed government with a royal chief, aristocratic power, and popular judgment. He praises the ancestral Roman constitution as incomparable, concluding that this balanced form of government is the best safeguard against the cycles of revolution and the degeneration of any single form of rule.
Main Arguments
The central argument of Book I is that death is not an evil but may even be a good. Cicero develops this through several lines of reasoning. If the dead are nowhere, they do not exist, and what does not exist cannot be miserable. The fear of death is therefore irrational. He argues that death is either a change to an eternal home or a release from sensation; in either case, it cannot be an evil. He cites the universal consent of nations as proof of the gods’ existence and of the soul’s immortality, noting that nature gives silent judgment for immortality: men plant for future ages, found laws, and care for posterity. He marshals examples of heroes who rushed to certain death—L. Brutus, Decius the father and his son and grandson, the Scipios, Paulus, Geminus, Marcellus, Albinus, and Gracchus—to show that death is not to be feared. He concludes that since the dead are insensible, they cannot be miserable, and he compares a dead man to a non-existent creature such as a Hippocentaur.
Book II argues that pain is not the greatest evil and that it can be borne through the exercise of virtue and honor. Cicero contends that physical exertion increases force in speaking, running, or boxing, and that groans in pain, if they strengthen the mind, may be used, but if they are lamentation or unmanly weeping, they are unbecoming. He argues that considering how noble it is to bear pain helps, as we are naturally desirous of honor. He cites the Decii, who rushed into battle seeing enemies’ swords, valuing honor over death, and Epaminondas, who did not groan as he left his country triumphing over the Lacedæmonians. He contrasts the weakness of Dionysius of Heraclea, who renounced his Stoic fortitude in pain, with the firmness of Posidonius, who told pain, “I will never acknowledge you an evil.” He argues that bearing pain should be consistent, and that nothing is consistent without reason.
Book III argues that grief of mind is a disease that can be cured by philosophy. Cicero contends that there are more disorders of mind than body, and they are more dangerous. The mind, disordered, is in constant error. Philosophy is the medicine of the soul, and we must exert our own energy. He argues that a wise man is not subject to grief, for grief is inconsistent with courage, and whoever is subject to grief is subject to fear and to a servile state. The brave man is the only wise man; therefore grief cannot befall him.
Book IV provides a detailed taxonomy of the perturbations of the mind—grief, fear, lust, and delight—and their sub-species, arguing that all perturbations are diseases of the soul that must be eradicated. Cicero criticizes the Peripatetic view that these emotions can be useful in moderation, insisting that the wise man must be free from all perturbations.
Book V argues that virtue alone is sufficient for a happy life. Cicero contends that turbulent motions of the mind leave no room for a happy life: one who fears pain or death is miserable; one broken by banishment, mourning, or loss of children is miserable; one inflamed with lust is miserable. Those alarmed by no fears, wasted by no griefs, provoked by no lusts are happy. A calm sea is like a placid mind. If virtue produces these effects, virtue can make men happy. He engages with the objections of Theophrastus, who held that external evils could make a man miserable, and of Epicurus, who confined all good to pleasure, arguing that their positions are inconsistent with the claim that a wise man is always happy.
Key Concepts
The Tusculan Disputations introduces and develops several named concepts and motifs that recur throughout the work.
The Academy is both a physical location—the gallery at Cicero’s Tusculan villa where the discussions took place—and a philosophical school. Cicero identifies with the Academic tradition, which traces its origins to Socrates, was revived by Arcesilaus, and was confirmed by Carneades. The Academy does not believe that nothing is true, but that falsehoods are blended with truths, so a wise man directs his conduct by what is probable. This method of withholding assent and seeking probability is central to Cicero’s approach.
The perturbations of the mind (which the Greeks call pathê) are the emotions that disturb the soul’s tranquillity. Cicero lists four primary perturbations: grief, fear, lust, and delight. He argues that all perturbations are diseases of the soul, and that soundness of mind depends on tranquillity. The Stoics preserved Socrates’ opinion that all silly people are unsound; wisdom is soundness, folly is insanity. Cicero distinguishes between insania and furor, noting that the Romans define these better than the Greeks: furor is what the Greeks call melancholia, and a wise man may be subject to furor but not insania.
The soul is examined through various philosophical opinions. Some think the soul departs the body; others that both perish. Empedocles says the soul is blood; some say the brain; Zeno the Stoic says the soul is fire. Aristoxenus held the soul to be a “straining” like harmony. Xenocrates said the soul is a number. Plato imagined a threefold soul: reason in the head, anger in the breast, desire under the præcordia. Dicæarchus denied that any soul exists. Aristotle added a fifth nature, calling the soul endelecheia (a continued and perpetual motion). Democritus deduced the soul from fortuitous concourse of small, light, round atoms. Cicero argues that whichever opinion is true, death cannot be an evil.
The wise man is a recurring ideal. He is full of faith, not confidence (a bad sense); he is under no fear; grief is inconsistent with his character. The brave man is the only wise man. A great soul is invincible and despises all things. The wise man’s happiness derives from virtue alone, and no external circumstance can deprive him of it.
The gods are examined in the treatise On the Nature of the Gods. The variety of opinions on the gods leads to the inference that ignorance is the origin of philosophy. Protagoras doubted the gods’ existence; Diagoras the Melian and Theodorus of Cyrene believed there were none. Others affirm the gods exist but disagree on their forms, abodes, and whether they are inactive or govern the world. If the gods take no notice of human affairs, piety, sanctity, and religion are of no avail. The Epicurean view that the gods are idle and unconcerned with human affairs is criticized, as is the Stoic view that the gods govern the world through providence.
The commonwealth is defined in “Scipio’s Dream” and the related fragments as “a constitution of the entire people”—not any congregation, but an association bound by justice and utility, arising from natural sociability, not weakness. Every commonwealth needs authority: one person (kingdom), delegated rulers (aristocracy), or the multitude (democracy). Each form, if just, is tolerable, but each degenerates: monarchy into tyranny, aristocracy into oligarchy, democracy into mob rule. A mixed government is preferable, combining a royal chief, aristocratic power, and popular judgment.
Themes
The Tusculan Disputations is animated by several deeper concerns that give the work its moral and philosophical urgency.
The most pervasive theme is the consolation of philosophy. Cicero wrote the work in the aftermath of his daughter’s death, and the entire project is an exercise in self-therapy as much as philosophical inquiry. He writes to ease a “melancholy disposition” and “heavy oppression of fortune.” The arguments against the fear of death, the bearing of pain, and the grief of mind are not abstract exercises but practical remedies for real suffering. Philosophy is presented as the medicine of the soul, a discipline that can cure the disorders of the mind just as medicine cures the disorders of the body.
Closely related is the theme of death and immortality. Cicero examines death from every angle: whether the soul survives, whether the dead are miserable, whether death is an evil, whether it is a release or a transition. He draws on the universal consent of nations, the testimony of poets, the examples of heroes, and the arguments of philosophers. The conclusion is that death is either a change to an eternal home or a release from sensation, and in either case it is not to be feared. The wise man faces death with equanimity, like Socrates, who hoped for either an undisturbed sleep-like death or a journey to meet Minos, Rhadamanthus, Æacus, Triptolemus, Orpheus, Musæus, Homer, and Hesiod.
The theme of virtue and happiness runs through the entire work but comes to the fore in Book V. Cicero argues that virtue alone is sufficient for a happy life, and that external goods—wealth, health, reputation, even freedom from pain—are not necessary for happiness. The wise man on the rack can still be happy, though the rack is inconsistent with a happy life in the sense that it is an evil. This position is contrasted with that of Theophrastus, who held that external evils could make a man miserable, and of Epicurus, who confined all good to pleasure. Cicero finds both positions inconsistent with the claim that a wise man is always happy.
The theme of Rome and Greece is also prominent. Cicero is engaged in a cultural project: to bring Greek philosophy to Rome, to translate its concepts into Latin, and to demonstrate that Romans can excel in this field as they have in customs, laws, and military affairs. He notes that poetry came late to Rome, that philosophy has been neglected in Latin, and that he undertakes to raise it. He compares himself to Aristotle, who joined philosophy with eloquence. He urges the transportation of philosophy to Rome, arguing that it is expedient and not to be limited to a few subjects. This patriotic dimension gives the work a public purpose alongside its private consolation.
The theme of the gods and providence is examined in the treatise On the Nature of the Gods. The question of whether the gods exist, whether they care for human affairs, and whether they govern the world is explored through the competing claims of Epicureans, Stoics, and Academics. The consequences are practical: if the gods take no notice of human affairs, piety, sanctity, and religion are of no avail, and their subversion would cause confusion in life. Faith, human associations, and justice might perish with piety. The work also examines the problem of evil: if the gods care for mankind, good men would be happy and bad men miserable, but this is not so. The prosperity of the wicked destroys the idea of Divine Providence.
Finally, the theme of the mixed constitution emerges in “Scipio’s Dream” and the related fragments. Cicero, through Scipio, argues that the best form of government combines monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy, and that the ancestral Roman constitution is incomparable. This political theme reflects Cicero’s own commitment to the Roman Republic and his concern for its stability in a time of crisis.
The Author’s Conclusions
Cicero’s conclusions in the Tusculan Disputations are consistently therapeutic and moral. He concludes that death is not an evil but may be a good: it is either a change to an eternal home or a release from sensation, and it is an appointment of the Gods or nature. The dead, having no existence, cannot be miserable, and the wise man faces death with equanimity.
He concludes that pain is not the greatest evil and can be borne through the exercise of virtue and honor. A lofty soul that despises pain is most excellent, deriving satisfaction from itself. No theatre for virtue equals consciousness of it. If pains are not worth enduring, there is a retreat at hand: death, a shelter where one is forever insensible.
He concludes that grief of mind is a disease that can be cured by philosophy. The mind invented bodily medicines, so it can cure itself. Philosophy is the medicine of the soul. The wise man is not subject to grief, for grief is inconsistent with courage, and whoever is subject to grief is subject to fear and to a servile state.
He concludes that all perturbations of the mind are diseases that must be eradicated. The wise man is free from fear, grief, lust, and vain delight. Soundness of mind depends on tranquillity, and a calm sea is like a placid mind.
He concludes that virtue alone is sufficient for a happy life. Those alarmed by no fears, wasted by no griefs, provoked by no lusts are happy. If virtue produces these effects, virtue can make men happy. He finds the contrary positions of Theophrastus and Epicurus inconsistent and untenable.
In the treatise On the Nature of the Gods, Cicero, through the character of Cotta, concludes that the arguments for divine providence are difficult to maintain, and that the variety of opinions on the gods leads to the inference that ignorance is the origin of philosophy. The Academic refusal to assent to uncertain things is prudent. The work ends with the discussion of the commonwealth in “Scipio’s Dream,” where Scipio concludes that the mixed constitution is preferable and that the ancestral Roman constitution is incomparable. The dream itself concludes with the promise of immortality for those who serve their country well, and the assurance that the soul’s true home is in the heavens, where the wise and good will dwell forever.
Significance
The Tusculan Disputations holds a significant place in the history of philosophy and in the transmission of Greek thought to the Latin West. It represents Cicero’s ambitious project to make philosophy accessible to Roman readers in their own language, and it preserves the arguments and opinions of many Greek philosophers whose original works have been lost. The work is also a personal document, reflecting Cicero’s efforts to find consolation in philosophy after the death of his daughter and his withdrawal from public life.
The work’s influence extends beyond its immediate philosophical arguments. Its treatment of death, pain, and grief has been read by generations of readers seeking comfort and guidance. Its defense of virtue as sufficient for happiness has been taken up by later moralists. Its examination of the nature of the gods and the problem of providence anticipates later theological debates. Its discussion of the mixed constitution has been influential in political thought.
The volume also includes the treatise On the Nature of the Gods, which is one of the most important sources for ancient theology and for the Epicurean, Stoic, and Academic positions on the divine. The fragments and “Scipio’s Dream” preserve portions of Cicero’s Republic that would otherwise be lost, including the famous dream vision of the afterlife and the rewards of virtue.
The Tusculan Disputations is thus not only a work of philosophy but also a work of cultural transmission, personal consolation, and political reflection. It stands as a testament to Cicero’s conviction that philosophy is the medicine of the soul, and that the wise man, armed with virtue, can face death, pain, grief, and the perturbations of the mind with equanimity.
