The Schopenhauer Cure(89)

He never saw his mother after their break when he was thirty-one, but twelve years later, in 1813, they began to exchange a few business-related letters until her death in 1835. Once when he was ill, his mother wrote a rare personal comment: “Two months in your room without seeing a single person, that is not good, my son, and saddens me. A man cannot and should not isolate himself in that manner.”

Occasional letters passed back and forth between Arthur and his sister, Adele, in which she again and again tried to move closer to her brother, all the while offering reassurances that she would never make demands on him. But he repeatedly backed away. Adele, who never married, lived in great despair. When he told her of moving from Berlin to escape cholera, she wrote back that she would have welcomed getting the cholera which would have put an end to her misery. But Arthur pulled away even farther, absolutely refusing to be drawn into her life and her depression. After Arthur left home, they saw each other only once, in 1840, in a brief and unsatisfactory meeting, and Adele died nine years later.

Money was a continual source of concern throughout Schopenhauer’s life. His mother left her small estate to Adele, and Adele died with virtually no remaining estate. He tried, in vain, to get a job as a translator, and until the very last years of his life his books neither sold nor were reviewed by the press.

In short, Arthur lived without any of the comforts or rewards that his culture held so necessary to equilibrium, even to survival. How did he do it? What price did he pay? These, as we shall see, were the secrets he confided to “About Me.”





32




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The monuments, the ideas left behind by beings like me are my greatest pleasure in life. Without books I would long ago have been in despair.



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Julius entered the group room the following week to an odd scene. The members, sprawled in their seats, were intently studying Philip’s parable. Stuart had placed his copy on a clipboard and underlined as he read. Having forgotten his copy, Tony was reading over Pam’s shoulder.

Rebecca, with a hint of exasperation in her voice, began the meeting: “I’ve read this with due diligence.” She held up Philip’s handout, then folded it and put it in her purse. “I’ve given it enough time, Philip, in fact, too much time, and now I’d like you to disclose the relevance of this text to me or the group or Julius.”

“I think it would be a richer exercise if the class discussed it first,” responded Philip.

“Class? That’s what this feels like—a class assignment. Is this the way you do counseling, Philip? she asked, snapping her purse shut. “Like a teacher in a classroom? This is not why I’m here; I came for treatment, not for adult education.”

Philip took no note of Rebecca’s huffiness. “At best there exists only a vague boundary between education and therapy. The Greeks—Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, the Stoics and Epicureans—all believed that education and reason were the tools needed to combat human suffering. Most philosophical counselors consider education to be the foundation of therapy. Almost all ascribe to Leibniz’s motto Caritas sapientis meaning ‘wisdom and care.’” Philip turned toward Tony. “Leibniz was a German philosopher of the seventeenth century.”

“I’m finding this tedious and presumptuous,” said Pam. “Under the guise of helping Julius, you”—she raised her voice an octave—“Philip, I’m talking to you…” Philip, who had been tranquilly staring upward, jerked upright and turned toward Pam. “First, you pass out this sophomoric assignment and now try to control the group by coyly withholding your interpretation of the passage.”

“Here you go once again trying to de-ball Philip,” said Gill. “For God sakes, Pam, he’s a professional counselor. You don’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that he’ll try to contribute to the group by drawing from his own expertise. Why begrudge him everything?”

Pam opened her mouth to speak but closed it, seemingly at a loss for words. She stared at Gill, who added: “You asked for straight feedback, Pam. You got it. And no, I’ve not been drinking, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m in my fourteenth day of sobriety—I’ve been meeting with Julius twice a week—he’s turned on the heat, tightened the screws, and got me going to an AA meeting every day, seven days a week, fourteen meetings in fourteen days. I didn’t mention it last week because I wasn’t sure I could stick it out.”

All the members, save Philip, reacted strongly with nods and congratulations. Bonnie told him she was proud of him. Even Pam managed a “good for you.” Tony said, “Maybe I should join you.” He pointed to his bruised cheek. “My boozing leads to bruising.”

“Philip, how about you? You got a response to Gill?” asked Julius.

Philip shook his head. “He’s already had a good bit of support from others. He’s sober, speaking out, gaining strength. Sometimes more support is less.”

“I like that motto of Leibnitz you cited, Caritas sapientis—wisdom and care,” said Julius. “But I urge you not to forget the ‘caritas’ part. If Gill deserves support, why should you always be last in line? And, what’s more, you’ve got unique information: who else but you can express your feelings about his coming to your defense and confronting Pam on your behalf?”