does not marry) a form of immortality. In his view, our
inner nature is indestructible because we are but a
manifestation of the life force, the will, the thing–in–itself
which persists eternally. Hence, death is not true
annihilation; when our insignificant life is over, we shall
rejoin the primal life force that lies outside of time.
The idea of rejoining the life force after death
apparently offered relief to Schopenhauer and to many of
his readers (for example, Thomas Mann and his fictional
protagonist Thomas Buddenbrooks), but because it does not
include a continued personal self, strikes many as offering
only chilly comfort. (Even the comfort experienced by
Thomas Buddenbrooks is short–lived and evaporates a few
pages later.) A dialogue that Schopenhauer composed
between two Hellenic philosophers raises the question of
just how much comfort Schopenhauer drew from these
beliefs. In this conversation, Philalethes attempts to
persuade Thrasymachos (a thoroughgoing skeptic) that
death holds no terror because of the individual`s
indestructible essence. Each philosopher argues so lucidly
and so powerfully that the reader cannot be sure where the
author`s sentiments lay. At the end the skeptic,
Thrasymachos, is unconvinced and is given the final words.
Philalethes: «When you say I, I, I want to exist, it is not
you alone that says this. Everything says it, absolutely
everything that has the faintest trace of consciousness.
It is the cry not of the individual but of existence
itself.... only thoroughly recognize what you are and
what your existence really is, namely, the universal will
to live, and the whole question will seem to you
childish and most ridiculous.»
Thrasymachos: You`re childish yourself and most
ridiculous, like all philosophers, and if a man of my age
lets himself in for a quarter hour`s talk with such fools
it is only because it amuses me and passes the time. I`ve
more important business to attend to, so goodbye.
Schopenhauer had one further method of keeping
death–anxiety at bay: death–anxiety is least where self–realization is most. If his position based on universal
oneness appears anemic to some, there is little doubt about
the robustness of this last defense. Clinicians who work
with dying patients have made the observation that death–anxiety is greater in those who feel they have lived an
unfulfilled life. A sense of fulfillment, at «consummating
one`s life,” as Nietzsche put it, diminishes death–anxiety.
And Schopenhauer? Did he live rightly and
meaningfully? Fulfill his mission? He had absolutely no
doubt about that. Consider his final entry in his
autobiographical notes.
I have always hoped to die easily, for whoever has been
lonely all his life will be a better judge than others of
this solitary business. Instead of going out amid the
tomfooleries and buffooneries that are calculated for the
pitiable capacities of human bipeds, I shall end happily
conscious of returning to the place whence I
started...and of having fulfilled my mission.
And the same sentiment—the pride of having
pursued his own creative path—appears in a short verse, his
authorial finale, the very last lines of his final book.
I now stand weary at the end of the road
The jaded brow can hardly bear the laurel
And yet I gladly see what I have done
Ever undaunted by what others say.
When his last book,Parerga and Paralipomena, was
published, he said, «I am deeply glad to see the birth of my
last child. I feel as if a load that I have borne since my
twenty–fourth year has been lifted from my shoulders. No
one can imagine what that means.»
On the morning of the twenty–first of September
1860 Schopenhauer`s housekeeper prepared his breakfast,
tidied up the kitchen, opened the windows, and left to run
errands, leaving Schopenhauer, who had already had his
cold wash, sitting and reading on the sofa in his living
room, a large airy, simply furnished room. On the floor by
the sofa lay a black bearskin rug upon which sat Atman, his
beloved poodle. A large oil painting of Goethe hung
directly over the sofa, and several portraits of dogs,
Shakespeare, Claudius, and daguerreo–types of himself
hung elsewhere in the room. On the writing desk stood a
bust of Kant. In one corner a table held a bust of Christoph
Wieland, the philosopher who had encouraged the young
Schopenhauer to study philosophy, and in another corner
stood his revered gold–plated statue of the Buddha.
A short time later his physician, making regular
rounds, entered the room and found him leaning on his
back in the corner of the sofa. A «lung stroke» (pulmonary
embolus) had taken him painlessly out of this world. His
face was not disfigured and showed no evidence of the
throes of death.
His funeral on a rainy day was more disagreeable
than most due to the odor of rotting flesh in the small
closed mortuary. Ten years earlier Schopenhauer had left
explicit instructions that his body not be buried directly but
left in the mortuary for at least five days until decay
began—perhaps a final gesture of misanthropy or because
of a fear of suspended animation. Soon the mortuary was so
close and the air so foul that several of the assembled
people had to leave the room during a long pompous
obituary by his executor, Wilhelm Gwinner, who began
with the words:
This man who lived among us a lifetime, and who
nevertheless stayed a stranger amongst us, commands
rare feelings. Nobody is standing here who belongs to
him through the bond of blood; isolated as he lived, he
died.
Schopenhauer`s tomb was covered with a heavy
plate of Belgian granite. His will had requested that only
his name, Arthur Schopenhauer, appear on his tombstone—
«nothing more, no date, no year, no syllable.»
The man lying under this modest tombstone wanted
his work to speak for him.
Three Years Later
_________________________
Mankindhas
learned a
few things
from me
which it
will never
forget.
_________________________
The late–afternoon sun streamed through the large open
sliding windows of the CafГ© Florio. Arias fromThe Barber
of Seville flowed from the antique jukebox accompanied by
the hissing of an expresso machine steaming milk for
cappuccinos.
Pam, Philip, and Tony sat at the same window table
they had been using for their weekly coffee meeting since
Julius`s death. Others in the group had joined them for the
first year, but for the past two years only the three of them
had met. Philip halted their conversation to listen to an aria
and hum along with it. «вЂUna voce poco fa,`one of my
favorites,” he said, when they resumed their conversation.
Tony showed them his diploma from his community
college program. Philip announced he was now playing
chess two evenings a week at the San Francisco Chess
Club—the first time he had played opponents face–to–face
since his father`s death. Pam spoke of her mellow
relationship with her new man, a Milton scholar, and also
of her Sunday attendances at the Buddhist services at Green
Gulch in Marin.
She glanced at her watch. «And now, it`s showtime
for you guys.» She looked them over. «Handsome dudes,
you two. You both look great, but, Philip, that jacket,” she
shook her head, «it has got to go—uncool—corduroy is
dead, twenty years passГ©, those elbow patches too. Next
week we go shopping.» She looked at their faces. «You`re
going to do great. If you get nervous, Philip, remember the
chairs. Remember Julius loved you both. And I do, too.»
She planted a kiss on each of their foreheads, left a twenty–dollar bill on the table, saying, «Special day, my treat,” and
walked out.
An hour later seven members filed into Philip`s
office for their first group meeting and warily sat down in
Julius`s chairs. Philip had wept twice as an adult: once
during that last meeting of Julius`s therapy group and again
upon learning that Julius had bequeathed him these nine
chairs.
«So,” Philip began, «welcome to our group. We`ve
tried to orient you to the group procedures during our
screening session with each of you. Now it`s time to
begin.»
«That`s it. Just like that? No further instructions?»
said Jason, a short, wiry middle–aged man wearing a tight
black Nike T–shirt.
«I remember how scared I was in my first group
therapy session,” said Tony, who leaned forward in his
seat. He was neatly dressed in a white short–sleeved shirt,
khaki trousers, and brown loafers.
«I didn`t say anything about being scared,” replied
Jason. «I`m referring to the lack of guidance.»
«Well, what would help get you started?» asked
Tony.
«Info. That`s what makes the world go round now.
This is supposed to be a philosophical consultation group—
are both of you philosophers?»
«I`m a philosopher,” said Philip, «with a doctorate
from Columbia, and Tony, my coleader, is a counseling
student.»
«A student? I don`t get it. How will you two operate
here?» shot back Jason.
«Well,” answered Tony, «Philip will bring in helpful
ideas from his knowledge of philosophy, and me, well, I`m
here to learn and to pitch in any way I can—I`m more of an
expert in emotional accessibility. Right, partner?»
Philip nodded.
«Emotional accessibility? Am I supposed to know
what that means?» asked Jason.
«Jason,” interrupted another member, «my name is
Marsha, and I want to point out that this is about the fifth
challenging thing you`ve said in the first five minutes of
our group.»
«And?»
«And you`re the kind of macho–exhibitionistic guy I
have a lot of trouble with.»
«And you`re the kind of Miss Prissy who gives me a
major pain in the ass.»
«Wait, wait, let`s freeze the action for a moment,”
said Tony, «and get some feedback on our first five minutes
from the other members here. First, I want to say something
to you, Jason, and to you, Marsha—something that Philip
and I learned from Julius, our teacher. Now, I`m sure you
two feel like this is a stormy beginning but I`ve got a
hunch, a very strong hunch, that by the end of this group,
each of you are going to prove very valuable to the other.
Right, Philip?»
«Right you are, partner.»
«Every breath we draw wards...”: Arthur
Schopenhauer,The World as Will and Representation, trans.
E. F. J. Payne, 2 vols. (New York: Dover Publications,
1969), vol. 1., p. 311 / В§ 57
«Ecstasy in the act of copulation...”: Arthur
Schopenhauer,Manuscript Remains in Four Volumes, ed.
Arthur HГјbscher, trans. E. F. J. Payne (Oxford: Berg
Publishers, 1988‫90), vol. 3. p. 262 / § 111
«Life is a miserable thing...”: Eduard Grisebach,
ed.,Schopenhauer`s Gespräche und Selbstgespräche
(Berlin: E. Hofmann, 1898), p. 3
«Talent is like a marksman...”: Schopenhauer,World as
Will, vol. 2, p. 391 / chap. 31, «On Genius.»
«No one helped me,...”: RГјdiger Safranski,Schopenhauer
and the Wild Years of Philosophy, trans. Ewald Osers
(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1991), p. 11.
«A happy life is impossible...”: Arthur
Schopenhauer,Parerga and Paralipomena, trans. E. F. J.
Payne, 2 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2000), vol. 2, p.
322 / В§ 172a.
«The solid foundations of our view...”: Ibid., vol. 1, p. 478
/ chap. 6, «On the Different Periods of Life.»
«Splendor, rank, and title exercise...”:
Safranski,Schopenhauer, p. 14.
«I no more pretended ardent love...”: Ibid., p. 13
«If we look at life in its small details...”: T. Bailey
Saunders, trans.,Complete Essays of Schopenhauer: Seven
Books in One Volume (New York: Wiley, 1942), book 5, p.
24. See also Schopenhauer,Parerga and Paralipomena,
vol. 2, p. 290 / В§ 147a.
«in the near and penetrating eye of death...”: Thomas
Mann,Buddenbrooks, trans. H. T. Lowe–Porter (New York:
Vintage Books, 1952), p. 509
«A master–mind could lay hold...”: Ibid., p. 510
«Have I hoped to live on...”: Ibid., p. 513
«so perfectly consistently clear...”: Thomas Mann,Essays
of Three Decades, trans. H. T. Lowe–Porter (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1947), p. 373
«emotional, breath–taking, playing between violent
contrasts...”: Ibid., p. 373.
«letting that dynamic, dismal genius work...”: Ronald
Hayman,Nietzsche: A Critical Life (New York: Penguin,
1982), p. 72
«Religion has everything on its side...”:
Schopenhauer,World as Will, vol. 2, p. 166 / chap. 17, «On
Man`s Need for Metaphysics.»
«Could we foresee it...”: Saunders,Complete Essays, book
5, p. 3. See also Schopenhauer,Parerga and Paralipomena,
vol. 2, p. 298 / В§ 155a.
«In endless space countless luminous spheres...”:
Schopenhauer,World as Will, vol. 2, p. 3 / chap. 1, «On the
Fundamental View of Idealism.»
«Just because the terrible activity...”: Ibid., vol. 2, p. 394 /
chap. 31, «On Genius.»
«by far the happiest part...”: Safranski,Schopenhauer, p. 26
«Remember how your father permits...”: Ibid., p. 29
«feeling of two friends meeting...”: Schopenhauer,Parerga
and Paralipomena, vol. 2, p. 299 / В§ 156
«I found myself in a country unknown to me...”:
Safranski,Schopenhauer, p. 280
«The greatest wisdom is to make...”:
Schopenhauer,Parerga and Paralipomena, vol. 2, p. 284 /
В§ 143.
«The kings left their crowns and scepters behind...”:
Safranski,Shopenhauer, p. 44.
«put aside all these authors for a while...”: Ibid., p. 37
«In my seventeenth year...”: Ibid., p. 41
«This world is supposed to have been made...”: Ibid., 58
«When, at the end of their lives...”: Schopenhauer,Parerga
and Paralipomena, vol. 2, p. 285 / В§ 145
«A person of high, rare mental gifts...”:
Schopenhauer,World as Will, vol. 2, p. 388 / chap. 31, «On
Genius.»
«Noble, excellent spirit to whom I owe everything...”:
Safranski,Shopenhauer, p. 278.
«Dancing and riding do not make...” and other quotations
from Heinrich`s letters: Ibid., pp. 52‫53
«I know too well how little you had...”: Ibid., p. 81
«I continued to hold my position...”: Ibid., p. 55
