The Schopenhauer Cure(112)
Parerga and Paralipomena was a great success, generating several compilations of selections published separately under more popular titles (Aphorisms on Practical Wisdom, Counsels and Maxims, The Wisdom of Life, Living Thoughts of Schopenhauer, The Art of Literature, Religion: A Dialogue). Soon Schopenhauer’s words were on the tongue of the entire educated German public. Even in neighboring Denmark, Kierkegaard wrote in his 1854 journal that “all the literary gossips, journalists, and authorlings have begun to busy themselves with S.”
Praise ultimately appeared in the press. Great Britain, Arthur’s almost-birthplace, was the first to honor him with a stunning review of all of his work (titled “Iconoclasm in German Philosophy”) in the prestigious Westminister Review. Shortly afterward this review was translated and widely read in Germany. Similar articles quickly appeared in France and Italy, and Schopenhauer’s life changed dramatically.
Curious visitors flocked to the Englisher Hof to eye the philosopher at lunch. Richard Wagner sent him the original libretto of the Ring of the Nibelungs with a dedication. Universities began to teach his work, learned societies issued invitations for membership, eulogistic letters arrived in the post, his previous books reappeared in bookstores, townspeople greeted him on his walks, and pet stores had a run on poodles similar to Schopenhauer’s.
Schopenhauer’s rapture and delight were very evident. He wrote, “If a cat is stroked it purrs; and just as inevitably if a man is praised, sweet rapture and delight are reflected in his face, and expressed the hope” that “the morning sun of my fame will gild with its first rays the evening of my life and dispel its gloom.” When the eminent sculptress Elisabeth Ney visited Frankfurt for four weeks to do a bust of him, Arthur purred, “She works all day at my place. When I get home we have coffee together, we sit together on the sofa, and I feel as if I were married.”
Not since the best years of his life—the two years spent as a child in Le Havre with the de Blesimaire family—had Arthur spoken so tenderly and contentedly of domestic life.
40
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At the end of his life, no man, if he be sincere and in possession of his faculties, would ever wish to go though it again. Rather than this, he will much prefer to choose complete nonexistence.
* * *
Members filed in for the penultimate meeting with contrasting feelings: some felt sorrow about the looming end of the group, some thought about personal work they had left undone, some scanned Julius’s face as though to imprint it in their minds, and all were enormously curious about Pam’s response to Philip’s revelations of the previous meeting.
But Pam did not offer satisfaction; instead she extracted a sheet of paper from her purse, slowly unfolded it, and read aloud:
A carpenter does not come up to me and say, “listen to me discourse about the art of carpentry.” Instead he makes a contract for a house and builds it…. Do the same thing yourself: eat like a man; drink like a man…. get married, have children, take part in civic life, learn how to put up with insults, and tolerate other people.
Then, turning to Philip, she said, “Written by…guess who?”
Philip shrugged.
“Your man, Epictetus. That’s why I bring it here. I know you revere him—you brought Julius one of his fables. Why am I quoting him? I’m merely speaking to the point raised by Tony and Stuart and others last week that you’ve never been ‘in life.’ I believe that you selectively pick and choose various passages from philosophers to support your position and—”
Gill interrupted, “Pam, this is our next-to-last meeting. If this is another one of your get-Philip tirades, I don’t personally feel I’ve got time for it. Do what you tell me to do. Get real and talk about your feelings. You must have had strong reactions to what Philip said about you last meeting.”
“No, no, hear me out,” Pam said quickly. “This is not ‘get-Philip’ stuff. My motivations are different. The iron is cooling. I’m trying to say something helpful to Philip. I think he’s compounded his life avoidance by selectively gathering support from philosophy. He draws from Epictetus when he needs him and overlooks the same Epictetus when he doesn’t.”
“That’s a great point, Pam,” said Rebecca. “You’re putting your finger on something important. You know, I bought a copy of a little paperback called the Wisdom of Schopenhauer at a used-book store and have been skimming it the last couple of nights. It’s all over the place: some of it’s fabulous and some outrageous. There’s a passage I read yesterday that floored me. He says that if we go into any cemetery, knock on the tombstones, and ask the spirits dwelling there if they’d like to live again, every one of them would emphatically refuse.” She turned to Philip. “You believe this?” Without waiting for him to respond, Rebecca continued, “Well, I don’t. He’s not speaking for me. I’d like to check it out. Could we get a vote here?”
“I’d choose to live again. Life’s a bitch, but it’s a kick too,” said Tony. A chorus of “me too” spread around the group. “I hesitate for one reason,” explained Julius. “The idea of once again bearing the pain of my wife’s death; but, even so, I’d say yes. I love being alive.” Only Philip held silent.