Heraclitus and Bullshit (Literally)
On an implausibly malodorous death
Heraclitus of Ephesus is without doubt the most diverting of the pre-Socratic philosophers. Not, it must be said, for his philosophical output, which rather makes one wish he’d been carried off by that famous river of his, but instead for his curmudgeonly nature, and, in particular, for his spectacularly malodorous death.
It is true that we do not know exactly how Heraclitus died, but Diogenes Laertius, the ancient world’s Simon Schama, seems convinced it involved unreasonably large amounts of cow dung.
It appears that Heraclitus’s problems began when he took up rambling, and became sick as a consequence. Diogenes Laertius fills in the details for us:
And at last becoming a complete misanthrope, he used to live, spending his time in walking about the mountains; feeding on grasses and plants, and in consequence of these habits, he was attacked by the dropsy, and so then he returned to the city...
In the face of this setback, and finding himself at least a millennia too early for evidence-based medicine, Heraclitus turned to alternative remedies:
He shut himself up in a stable for oxen, and covered himself with cow-dung, hoping to cause the wet to evaporate from him, by the warmth that this produced.
Heraclitus’s subsequent death suggests that this treatment option was suboptimal.
Happily, Diogenes Laertius, provides us with an alternative ending. We’ve still got cow-dung in this new version, but the stable of oxen is gone. Unhappily, it makes no difference:
Hermippus states…he placed himself in the sun, and ordered his servants to plaster him over with cow-dung; and being stretched out in that way, on the second day he died, and was buried in the market-place.
Diogenes Laertius, clearly reluctant to kill off the hero of our story, provides us with a third possible ending, this time adding a canine element into the bovine mix. So we’ve got cow-dung, a blazing hot sun, but this time:
Neanthes, of Cyzicus says, that as he could not tear off the cow-dung, he remained there, and on account of the alteration in his appearance, he was not discovered, and so was devoured by the dogs.
So you can take your pick: dying alone in a stable, covered in cow-dung; dying stretched out in the sun, covered in cow-dung; or eaten by a pack of hungry hounds, while stretched out in the sun, covered in cow-dung.
In Heraclitus's case, as he met his demise, it wasn't turtles all the way down, but cow-dung.