Ирвин Ялом - The Schopenhauer Cure

confrontation plot involved a female attorney who was assigned a

pro bono case to defend an accused rapist. On her first jail

interview with him she suspects he is the man who raped her ten

years before.

He made a new entry: «In a therapy group a woman

encounters a man who, many years before, had been her teacher

and sexually exploited her.» Not bad. Great potential for literature,

Julius thought, though he knew it would never be written. There

were ethical issues: he`d need permission from Pam and Philip.

And he`d need, also, the passage of ten years, which he didn`t

have. But potential, too, for good therapy, thought Julius. He was

certain that something positive could come of this—if only he

could keep them both in the group and could bear the pain of

opening up old wounds.

Julius picked up Philip`s translation of the tale of the ship`s

passengers. He reread it several times, trying to understand its

meaning or relevance. But still he ended up shaking his head.

Philip offered it as comfort. But where was the comfort?

31

How Arthur Lived

_________________________

Even when there

is no

particular

provocation, I

always have an

anxious concern

that causes me

to see and look

for dangers

when none

exist; for me

it magnifies to

infinity the

tiniest

vexation and

makes

association

with people

most difficult.

_________________________

After obtaining his doctorate, Arthur lived in Berlin, briefly in

Dresden, Munich, and Mannheim, and then, fleeing a cholera

epidemic, settled, for the last thirty years of his life, in Frankfurt,

which he never left aside from one–day excursions. He had no paid

employment, lived in rented rooms, never had a home, hearth,

wife, family, intimate friendships. He had no social circle, no close

acquaintances, and no sense of community—in fact he was often

the subject of local ridicule. Until the very last few years of his life

he had no audience, readership, or income from his writings. Since

he had so few relationships, his meager correspondence consisted

primarily of business matters.

Despite his lack of friends, we nonetheless know more about

his personal life than that of most philosophers because he was

astonishingly personal in his philosophical writings. For example,

in the opening paragraphs of the introduction to his major

work,The World as Will and Representation, he strikes an

unusually personal note for a philosophic treatise. His pure and

clear prose makes it immediately evident that he desires to

communicate personally with the reader. First he instructs the

reader how to read his book, starting with a plea to read the book

twice—and to do so with much patience. Next he urges the reader

to first read his previous book,On the Fourfold Root of Sufficient

Reason, which serves as an introduction to this book and assures

the reader that he will feel much gratitude toward him for his

advice. He then states that the reader will profit even more if he is

familiar with the magnificent work of Kant and the divine Plato.

He notes that he has, however, discovered grave errors in Kant,

which he discusses in an appendix (which should also be read

first), and lastly notes that those readers familiar with the

Upanishads will be prepared best of all to comprehend his book.

And, finally, he remarks (quite correctly) that the reader must be

growing angry and impatient with his presumptuous, immodest,

and time–consuming requests. How odd that this most personal of

philosophic writers should have lived so impersonally.

In addition to personal references inserted into his work,

Schopenhauer reveals much about himself in an autobiographical

document with a title written in Greek, (About

Myself), a manuscript shrouded in mystery and controversy whose

strange story goes like this:

Late in his life there gathered around Arthur a very small

circle of enthusiasts, or «evangelists,” whom he tolerated but

neither respected nor liked. These acquaintances often heard him

speak of «About Myself,” an autobiographical journal in which he

had been jotting observations about himself for the previous thirty

years. Yet after his death something strange happened: «About

Myself» was nowhere to be found. After searching in vain,

Schopenhauer`s followers confronted Wilhelm Gwinner, the

executor of Schopenhauer`s will, about the missing document.

Gwinner informed them that «About Myself» no longer existed; as

Schopenhauer had instructed him he had burned it immediately

after his death.

Yet a short time later the same Wilhelm Gwinner wrote the

first biography of Arthur Schopenhauer, and in it Schopenhauer`s

evangelists insisted they recognized sections of the «About

Myself» document either in direct quotes or in paraphrase. Had

Gwinner copied the manuscript before burning it? Or not burned it

all and instead plundered it for use in his biography? Controversy

swirled for decades, and ultimately another Schopenhauer scholar

reconstituted the document from Gwinner`s book and from other

of Schopenhauer`s writings and published the forty–seven–page at the end of the four–volumeNachschlass

(Manuscript Remains). «About Me» is an odd reading experience

because each paragraph is followed by a description of its

Byzantine provenance, often longer than the text itself.

Why was it that Arthur Schopenhauer never had a job? The

story of Arthur`s kamikaze strategy for obtaining a position at the

university is another one of those quirky anecdotes included in

every biographical account of Schopenhauer`s life. In 1820, at the

age of thirty–two, he was offered his first teaching job, a

temporary, very low–salaried position (Privatdozent) to teach

philosophy at the University of Berlin. What did he do but

immediately and deliberately schedule his lecture course (titled

«The Essence of the World») at the exact same hour as the course

offered by Georg Wilhelm Hegel, the departmental chairman and

the most renowned philosopher of the day?

Two hundred eager students crammed into Hegel`s course,

whereas only five came to hear Schopenhauer describe himself as

an avenger who had come to liberate post–Kantian philosophy

from the empty paradoxes and the corrupting and obscure language

of contemporary philosophy. It was no secret that Schopenhauer`s

target was Hegel and Hegel`s predecessor, Fichte (remember, the

philosopher who had begun life as a gooseherd and walked across

all of Europe in order to meet Kant). Obviously, none of this

endeared the young Schopenhauer to Hegel or to the other faculty

members, and when no students at all materialized for

Schopenhauer`s course the following semester his brief and

reckless academic career was over: he never again gave a public

lecture.

In his thirty years at Frankfurt until his death in 1860,

Schopenhauer adhered to a regular daily schedule, almost as

precise as Kant`s daily routine. His day began with three hours of

writing followed by a hour, sometimes two, of playing the flute.

He swam daily in the cold Main River, rarely missing a day even

in the midst of winter. He always lunched at the same club, the

Englisher Hof, dressed in tails and white tie, a costume that was

high fashion in his youth but conspicuously out of style in mid–nineteenth century Frankfurt. It was to his luncheon club that any

curious person wanting to meet the odd and querulous philosopher

would go.

Anecdotes about Schopenhauer at the Englisher Hof abound:

his enormous appetite, often consuming food for two (when

someone remarked upon this, he replied that he also thought for

two), his paying for two lunches to ensure no one sat next to him,

his gruff but penetrating conversation, his frequent outbursts of

temper, his blacklist of individuals to whom he refused to speak,

his tendency to discuss inappropriate shocking topics—for

example, praising the new scientific discovery that allowed him to

avoid venereal infection by dipping his penis after intercourse into

a dilute solution of bleaching powder.

Though he enjoyed serious conversation, he rarely found

dining companions he deemed worthy of his time. For some time,

he regularly placed a gold piece on the table when he sat down and

removed it when he left. One of the military officers that usually

lunched at the same table once asked him about the purpose of this

exercise. Schopenhauer replied that he would donate the gold piece

for the poor the day that he heard officers have a serious

conversation that did not entirely revolve around their horses,

dogs, or women. During his meal he would address his poodle,

Atman, as «You, Sir,” and if Atman misbehaved he redressed him

by calling him «You Human!»

Many anecdotes of his sharp wit are told. Once a diner asked

him a question to which he simply responded, «I don`t know.» The

young man commented, «Well, well, I thought you, a great sage,

knew everything!» Schopenhauer replied, «No, knowledge is

limited, only stupidity is unlimited!» A query to Schopenhauer

from or about women or marriage elicited without fail an acerbic

response. He was once forced to endure the company of a very

talkative woman, who described in detail the misery of her

marriage. He listened patiently, but when she asked if he

understood her, he replied, «No, but I do understand your

husband.»

In another reported exchange he was asked if he would

marry.

«I have no intention to get married because it would only

cause me worries.»

«And why would that would be the case?»

«I would be jealous, because my wife would cheat on

me.»

«Why are you so sure of that?»

«Because I would deserve it.»

«Why is that?»

«Because I would have married.»

He also had sharp words to say about physicians, once

remarking that doctors have two different handwritings: a barely

legible one for prescriptions and a clear and proper one for their

bills.

A writer who visited the fifty–eight–year–old Schopenhauer

at lunch in 1846 described him thus:

Well built...invariably well dressed but an outmoded

cut...medium height with short silvery hair...amused and

exceedingly intelligent blue–flecked eyes...displayed an

introverted and, when he spoke, almost baroque nature,

whereby he daily supplied considerable material to the cheap

satire of...the table company. Thus, this often comically

disgruntled, but in fact harmless and good–naturedly gruff,

table companion became the butt of the jokes of insignificant

men who would regularly—though admittedly not ill–meaningly—make fun of him.

After lunch Schopenhauer habitually took a long walk, often

carrying on an audible monologue or a conversation with his dog

which elicited jeers from children. He spent evenings reading alone

in his rooms, never receiving visitors. There is no evidence of

romantic relationships during his years in Frankfurt, and in 1831,

at the age of forty–three, he wrote in «About Me,” «The risk of

living without work on a small income can be undertaken only in

celibacy.»

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

_________________________

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.

_________________________

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