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rear its head again.That was the moment. Suddenly my life
made me sick, and I began to vomit. And it was then,”
Philip turned to Julius, «when your comment about my
epitaph came to mind. Andthat was when I realized that
Schopenhauer was right: life is forever a torment, and
desire is unquenchable. The wheel of torment would spin
forever; I had to find a way to get off the wheel, and it was
then I deliberately set about patterning my life after his.»
«And it`s worked for you all these years?» said
Julius.
«Until now, until this group.»
«But you`re so much better now, Philip,” said
Bonnie. «You`re so much more in touch, so much more
approachable. I`ll tell you the truth—the way you were
when you first started here...I mean I could never have
imagined me or anyone else consulting you as a counselor.»
«Unfortunately,” Philip responded, «being вЂin touch`
here means that I must share everyone`s unhappiness. That
simply compounds my misery. Tell me, how can this
вЂbeing in touch` possibly be useful? When I was вЂin life` I
was miserable. For the past twelve years I have been a
visitor to life, an observer of the passing show, and»—
Philip spread his fingers and raised and lowered his hands
for emphasis—«I have lived in tranquillity. And now that
this group has compelled me to once again be вЂin life,` I am
once again in anguish. I mentioned to you my agitation
after that group meeting a few weeks ago. I have not
regained my former equanimity.»
«I think there`s a flaw in your reasoning, Philip,”
said Stuart, «and that has to do with your statement that you
were вЂin life.`”
Bonnie leaped in, «I was going to say the same thing.
I don`t believe you were ever in life, notreally in life.
You`ve never talked about having a real loving
relationship. I`ve heard nothing about male friends, and, as
for women, you say yourself that you were a predator.»
«That true, Philip?» asked Gill. «Have there never
been any real relationships?»
Philip shook his head. «Everyone with whom I`ve
interacted has caused me pain.»
«Your parents?» asked Stuart.
«My father was distant and, I think, chronically
depressed. He took his own life when I was thirteen. My
mother died a few years ago, but I had been estranged from
her for twenty years. I did not attend her funeral.»
«Brothers? Sisters?» asked Tony.
Philip shook his head. «An only child.»
«You know what comes to my mind?» Tony
interjected. «When I was a kid, I wouldn`t eat most things
my mother cooked. I`d always say вЂI don`t like it,` and
she`d always come back with вЂHow do you know you don`t
like it if you`ve never tasted it?` Your take on life reminds
me of that.»
«Many things,” Philip replied, «can be known by
virtue of pure reason. All of geometry, for example. Or one
may have some partial exposure to a painful experience and
extrapolate the whole from that. And one may look about,
read, observe others.»
«But your main dude, Schopenhauer,” said Tony,
«didn`t you say he made a big deal about listening to your
own body, of relying on—what did you say?—your instant
experience?»
«Immediate experience.»
«Right,immediate experience. So wouldn`t you say
you`re making a major decision on second–rate,
secondhand info—I mean info that`s not your own
immediate experience?»
«Your point is well taken, Tony, but I had my fill of
direct experience after that вЂconfession day` session.»
«Again you go back to that session, Philip. It seems
to have been a turning point,” said Julius. «Maybe it`s time
to describe what happened to you that day.»
As before, Philip paused, inhaled deeply, and then
proceeded to relate, in a methodical manner, his experience
after the end of that meeting. As he spoke of his agitation
and his inability to marshal his mind–quieting techniques,
he grew visibly agitated. Then, as he described how his
mental flotsam did not drift away but lodged in his mind,
drops of perspiration glistened on his forehead. And then,
as Philip spoke of the reemergence of his brutish, rapacious
self, a pool of wetness appeared in the armpits of his pale
red shirt and rivulets of sweat dripped from his chin and
nose and down his neck. The room was very still; everyone
was transfixed by Philip`s leakage of words and of water.
He paused, took another deep breath, and continued:
«My thoughts lost their coherence; images flooded pell–mell into my mind: memories I had long forgotten. I
remembered some things about my two sexual encounters
with Pam. And I saw her face, not her face now but her
face of fifteen years ago, with a preternatural vividness. It
was radiant; I wanted to hold it and...” Philip was prepared
to hold nothing back, not his raw jealousy, not the caveman
mentality of possessing Pam, not even the image of Tony
with the Popeye forearms, but he was now overcome by a
massive diaphoresis, which soaked him to the skin. He
stood and strode out of the room saying, «I`m drenched; I
have to leave.»
Tony bolted out after him. Three or four minutes
later the two of them reentered the room, Philip now
wearing Tony`s San Francisco Giants sweater, and Tony
stripped to his tight black T–shirt.
Philip looked at no one but simply collapsed into his
seat, obviously exhausted.
«Bring вЂem back alive,” said Tony.
«If I weren`t married,” said Rebecca, «I could fall in
love with both you guys for what you just did.»
«I`m available,” said Tony.
«No comment,” said Philip. «That`s it for me
today—I`m drained.»
«Drained? Your first joke here, Philip. I love it,” said
Rebecca.
39
Fame, at Last
_________________________
Some cannot
loosen
their own
chains yet
can
nonetheless liberate
their
friends.
—
Nietzsche
_________________________
There are few things that Schopenhauer vilified more than
the craving for fame. And, yet, oh how he craved it!
Fame plays an important role in his last
book,Parerga and Paralipomena, a two–volume
compilation of incidental observations, essays, and
aphorisms, completed in 1851, nine years before his death.
With a profound sense of accomplishment and relief, he
finished the book and said; «I will wipe my pen and say,
вЂthe rest is silence.`”
But finding a publisher was a challenge: none of his
previous publishers would touch it, having lost too much
money on his other unread works. Even his magnum
opus,The World as Will and Representation, had sold only
a few copies and received only a single, lack–luster review.
Finally, one of his loyal «evangelists» persuaded a Berlin
bookseller to publish a printing of 750 copies in 1853.
Schopenhauer was to receive ten free copies but no
royalties.
The first volume ofParerga and Paralipomena
contains a striking triplet of essays on how to gain and
maintain a sense of self–worth. The first essay, «What a
Man Is,” describes how creative thinking results in a sense
of inner wealth. Such a path provides self–esteem and
enables one to overcome the basic vacuity and boredom of
life, which results in a ceaseless pursuit of sexual
conquests, travel, and games of chance.
The second essay, «What a Man Has,” dissects one
of the major techniques used to compensate for inner
poverty: the endless accumulation of possessions, which
ultimately results in one becoming possessed by one`s
possessions.
It is the third essay, «What a Man Represents,” that
most clearly expresses his views on fame. A person`s self–worth or inner merit is the essential commodity, whereas
fame is something secondary, the mere shadow of merit. «It
is not fame but that whereby we merit it that is of true
value.... a man`s greatest happiness is not that posterity
will know something about him but he himself will develop
thoughts that deserve consideration and preservation for
centuries.» Self–esteem that is based on inner merit results
in personal autonomy which cannot be wrested from us—it
is in our power—whereas fame is never in our power.
He knew that ablating the desire for fame was not
easy; he likened it to «extracting an obstinate painful thorn
from our flesh» and agreed with Tacitus, who wrote, «The
thirst for fame is the last thing of all to be laid aside by wise
men.» And he, himself, was never able to lay aside the
thirst for fame. His writings are permeated with bitterness
about his lack of success. He regularly searched
newspapers and journals for some mention, any mention, of
himself or his work. Whenever he was away on a trip, he
assigned this scanning task to Julius Frauenstädt, his most
loyal evangelist. Though he could not stop chaffing at
being ignored, he ultimately resigned himself to never
knowing fame in his lifetime. In later introductions to his
books he explicitly addressed the future generations who
would discover him.
And then the unthinkable came.Parerga and
Paralipomena, the very book in which he described the
folly of pursuing fame, made him famous. In this final
work he softened his pessimism, staunched his flow of
jeremiads, and offered wise instruction on how to live.
Though he never renounced his belief that life is but a
«mouldy film on the surface of the earth,” and «a useless
disturbing episode in the blissful repose of nothingness,” he
took a more pragmatic path in theParerga and
Paralipomena. We have no choice, he said, but to be
condemned to life and must therefore attempt to live with
as little pain as possible. (Schopenhauer always viewed
happiness as a negative state—an absence of suffering—
and treasured Aristotle`s maxim «Not to pleasure but to
painlessness do the prudent aspire.»)
Accordingly,Parerga and Paralipomena offers
lessons on how to think independently, how to retain
skepticism and rationality, how to avoid soothing
supernatural emollients, how to think well of ourselves,
keep our stakes low, and avoid attaching ourselves to what
can be lost. Even though «everyone must act in life`s great
puppet play and feel the wire which sets us into motion,”
there is, nonetheless, comfort in maintaining the
philosopher`s lofty perspective that, from the aspect of
eternity, nothing really matters—everything passes.
Parerga and Paralipomenaintroduces a new tone.
While it continues to emphasize the tragic and lamentable
suffering of existence, it adds the dimension of
connectivity—that is, through the commonality of our
suffering, we are inexorably connected to one another. In
one remarkable passage the great misanthrope displays a
softer, more indulgent, view of his fellow bipeds.
The really proper address between one man and another
should be, instead of Sir, Monsieur,...my fellow
sufferer.However strange this may sound, it accords
with the facts, puts the other man in the most correct
light, and reminds us of that most necessary thing,
tolerance, patience, forbearance, and love of one`s
neighbor, which everyone needs and each of us
therefore owes to another.
A few sentences later he adds a thought that could
serve well as an opening paragraph in a contemporary
textbook of psychotherapy.
We should treat with indulgence every human folly,
failing, and vice, bearing in mind that what we have
before us are simply our own failings, follies, and vices.
For they are just the failings of mankind to which we
also belong and accordingly we have all the same
failings buried within ourselves. We should not be
indignant with others for these vices simply because
they do not appear in us at the moment.
Parerga and Paralipomenawas 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 prestigiousWestminister
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 theRing 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
_________________________
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
nonexisten
ce.
_________________________
Members filed in for the penultimate meeting with
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