Текст книги "The Schopenhauer Cure"

Автор книги: Наталия Май

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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

Leibniz`s mottoCaritas 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 expressyour feelings about his coming to

your defense and confronting Pam on your behalf?»

«Well said,” responded Philip. «I have mixed feelings. I

liked Gill`s support, and at the same time I`m wary of liking it.

Rely on others to do battle for you, and your own musculature will

atrophy.»

«Well, I`m going to reveal more of my ignorance,” said

Tony, pointing to the handout. «This boat story, Philip—I really

don`t understand it. You told us last week you were going to give

Julius something comforting, and yet this story about a boat and

passengers—I mean, to put it bluntly, I don`t know what the fuck

gives here.»

«Don`t apologize,” said Bonnie. «I told you, Tony, that you

almost always speak for me—I`m as confused as you are about this

ship and gathering shells.»

«Me too,” said Stuart. «I don`t get it.»

«Let me help,” said Pam. «After all, interpreting literature is

how I earn a living. First step is to go from the concrete—that is,

the ship, the shells, the sheep, and so on—to the abstract. In other

words, ask yourself: what does this ship or voyage or harbor

represent?»

«I think the ship stands for death—or the journey toward

death,” said Stuart, glancing at his clipboard.

«Okay,” said Pam. «So, where do you go from there?»

«Seems to me,” Stuart replied, «the main point isdon`t pay

so much attention to details on shore that you`ll miss the boat`s

sailing. ”

«So,” said Tony, «if you get too caught up in shore stuff—

even having a wife and kids—then the boat might sail without

you—in other words, you might miss your death. Big deal—is that

such a catastrophe?»

«Yeah, yeah, you`re right, Tony,” said Rebecca, «I also

understood the boat to be death, but when you put it that way I see

it doesn`t make sense.»

«I don`t get it either,” said Gill, «but it doesn`t say you`ll

miss death; it says you`ll go to it trussed up like the sheep.»

«Whatever,” said Rebecca, «but this still doesn`t feel like

therapy.» She turned to Julius, «This is supposed to be for you. Do

you find any comfort in this?»

«I`ll repeat what I said last time to you last week, Philip.

What I get is the knowledge that you want to give me something to

ease my ordeal. And also that you shy away from doing that

directly. Instead, you choose a less personal approach. Sets a future

agenda, I think, for you to work on expressing your caring in a

more personal way.

«As for the content,” Julius continued, «I`m confused also,

but this is how I understand it: since the boat might sail at any

time—that is, since death could call us at any point—we should

avoid getting too attached to the things of the world. Perhaps it

warns us that deep attachments would make dying more painful. Is

this the message of consolation you`re trying to give me, Philip?»

«I think,” Pam interjected before Philip could answer, «that

it falls into place better if you think of the ship and the journey not

as representing death but what we might call the authentic life. In

other words, we live more authentically if we keep focused on the

fundamental fact of sheer being, the miracle of existence itself. If

we focus on «being,” then we won`t get so caught up in the

diversions of life, that is, the material objects on the island, that we

lose sight of existence itself.»

A brief silence. Heads turned toward Philip.

«Exactly,” responded Philip with a hint of enthusiasm in his

tone. «My view exactly. The idea is that one has to beware of

losing oneself in life`s distractions. Heidegger called it falling or

being absorbed in theeverydayness of life. Now, I know you can`t

abide Heidegger, Pam, but I don`t believe his misguided politics

should be permitted to deprive us of the gift of his philosophical

insights. So, to paraphrase Heidegger, falling intoeverydayness

results in one`s becoming unfree—like the sheep.

«Like Pam,” Philip continued, «I believe the parable warns

us against attachment and urges us to stay attuned to the miracle of

being—not to worry abouthow things are but to be in a state of

wondermentthat things are —that things exist at all.»

«Now I think I`m getting your meaning,” said Bonnie, «but

it`s cold, abstract. What comfort is there in that? For Julius, for

anyone?»

«For me, there is comfort in the idea that my death informs

my life.» Philip spoke with uncharacteristic fervor as he continued,

«There is comfort in the idea of not allowing my core being to be

devoured by trivialities, by insignificant successes or failures, by

what I possess, by concerns about popularity—who likes me, who

doesn`t. For me, there is comfort in the state of remaining free to

appreciate the miracle of being.»

«Your voice sounds energized,” said Stuart, «but I also think

this seems steely and bloodless. It`s cold consolation. Makes me

shiver.»

The members were puzzled. They sensed that Philip had

something of value to offer but, as usual, were confused by his

bizarre manner.

After a brief silence Tony asked Julius, «Does this work for

you? I mean in terms of offering you something. Does it help you

in some way?»

«It doesn`t work for me, Tony. Yet, as I`ve said,” he turned

toward Philip, «you`re reaching out to give me something that

works for you. I`m aware, too, this is the second time you`ve

offered me something I`ve not been able to make use of, and that

must be frustrating for you.»

Philip nodded but remained silent.

«A second time! I don`t recall another time,” said Pam. «Did

it happen when I was away?»

Several heads shook no. No one else remembered a first

time, and Pam asked Julius, «Are there blanks that need to filled in

here?»

«There`s old history between Philip and me,” said Julius. «A

lot of the puzzlement today could be removed by relating this

history. But I feel it`s up to you, Philip. When you`re ready.»

«I`m willing for all to be discussed,” said Philip. «You have

carte blanche.»

«No, what I mean is, it`s not for me to do that. To paraphrase

your words,it would be a richer exercise if you would discuss it

yourself. I think it`s your call and your responsibility.?»

Philip tilted his head upward, closed his eyes, and, using the

same tone and manner as when reciting a memorized passage,

began: «Twnety–five years ago I consulted Julius for what is now

termedsexual addiction. I was predatory, I was driven, I was

insatiable, I thought of little else. My whole being was caught up in

the pursuit of women—new women, always new women, because

once I bedded a woman I rapidly lost interest in her. It was as

though the epicenter of my existence was that moment of

ejaculating inside the woman. And once that happened I had a brief

respite from my compulsion, but soon—sometimes only hours

later—I felt the call to prowl again. Sometimes I had two or three

women in a day. I was desperate. I wanted to get my mind out of

the trough, to think about other things, to touch some of the great

minds of the past. I was educated in chemistry then, but I yearned

for real wisdom. I sought help, the best and most expensive

available, and met with Julius weekly, sometimes twice weekly,

for three years, without benefit.»

Philip paused. The group stirred. Julius asked, «How is this

going for you, Philip? Can you go farther, or is it enough for one

day?»

«I`m fine,” replied Philip.

«With your closed eyes it`s hard to read you,” said Bonnie.

«I`m wondering if you keep them closed because you fear

disapproval.»

«No, I close my eyes to look within and collect my thoughts.

And surely I`ve made it clear that only my own approval matters to

me.»

Again there settled onto the group that strange otherworldly

sense of Philip`s untouchability. Tony tried to dispel it by

whispering loudly, «Nice try, Bonnie.»

Without opening his eyes, Philip continued. «Not too long

after I gave up therapy with Julius, I inherited a fair sum of money

from the maturation of a trust account my father had set up for me.

The money enabled me to leave my profession as a chemist and

devote myself to reading all of Western philosophy—in part

because of my enduring interest in that field, but primarily because

I believed that somewhere in the collective wisdom of the world`s

great thinkers I would find a cure for my condition. I felt at home

in philosophy and soon realized that I had found my true calling. I

applied and was accepted in the philosophy doctoral program at

Columbia. It was at that time that Pam had the misfortune of

crossing my path.»

Philip, eyes still closed, paused and inhaled deeply. All eyes

were on him except for furtive glances toward Pam, who stared at

the floor.

«As time went by I chose to concentrate my attention on the

trinity of truly great philosophers: Plato, Kant, and Schopenhauer.

But, in the final analysis, it was only Schopenhauer who offered

me help. Not only were his words pure gold for me, but I sensed a

strong affinity with his person. As a rational being I cannot accept

the idea of reincarnation in its vulgar sense, but if Ihad lived before

it would have been as Arthur Schopenhauer. Simply knowing of

his existence has tempered the ache of my isolation.

«After reading and rereading his work for several years, I

found that I had overcome my sexual problems. By the time I

received my doctorate, my father`s bequest was exhausted and I

needed to earn a living. I taught at a few places around the country

and a few years ago moved back to San Francisco to accept a

position at Coastal University. Eventually I lost interest in teaching

because I never found students worthy of me or my subject, and

then, about three years ago, it occurred to me that, since

philosophy had healed me, I might be able to use philosophy to

heal others. I enrolled in and completed a counseling curriculum

and then began a small clinical practice. And that brings me to the

present.»

«Julius was useless to you,” said Pam, «yet you contacted

him again. Why?»

«I didn`t. He contacted me.»

Pam muttered, «Oh, yeah, right out of the blue Julius

contactedyou ?»

«No, no, Pam,” said Bonnie, «that part is true; Julius

confirmed it when you were away. I can`t fill you in on it because

I`ve never really understood it myself.»

«Right, let me come in here,” said Julius. «I`ll reconstruct it

as best I can. The first few days after receiving the bad news from

my doctor I was staggered and tried to find a way to come to terms

with having a lethal cancer. One evening I got into a very morose

mood as I thought about the meaning of my life. I got to thinking

about being destined to slip into nothingness and remaining there

forever. And that being so, then what difference did anyone or any

activity make?

«I can`t remember the whole chain of my morbid thinking,

but I knew I had to clutch some kind of meaning or I would drown

on dry land, then and there. As I surveyed my life, I realized that

Ihad experienced meaning—and that it always involved stepping

outside of myself, helping others to live and to fulfill themselves.

More clearly than ever before I realized the centrality of my work

as a therapist and then I thought for hours about those I had helped;

all my patients, old and new, paraded through my imagination.

«Many Iknew I had helped but had I had anenduring impact

on their lives? That was the question that plagued me. I think I told

the rest of group before Pam returned that I had to know the

answer to this question so badly I decided to contact some of my

old patients to find out whether I had truly made a difference.

Seems crazy, I know.

«Then, while browsing through the charts of my long–ago

patients, I also began thinking of those I had failed to help. What

had happened tothem ? I wondered. Could I have done more? And

then the thought, the wishful thought, arose that maybe some of

my failures were late bloomers, maybe they had gotten some

delayed benefit from our work together. Then my eye fell upon

Philip`s chart, and I remember saying to myself, ‘If you want

failure,there is failure—there is someone youreally didn`t help—

you couldn`t make even a dent in his problems.` From that moment

on, I had an irresistible impulse to contact Philip and find out what

happened to him, to see if, in some way, I had been useful to him

after all.»

«So that`s how it came about that you called him,” said Pam.

«But how did it come about that he entered the group?»

«You want to pick it up from here, Philip?» said Julius.

«I believe it would be a richer exercise if you continued,”

said Philip with the slightest trace of a smile on his lips.

Julius quickly filled the group in on the subsequent events:

Philip`s appraisal that his therapy had been without value and that

Schopenhauer had been his real therapist, the e–mail invitation to

the lecture, Philip`s request for supervision…

«I don`t get it, Philip,” interrupted Tony. «If you didn`t get

anything from Julius in therapy, then why in hell would you want

his supervision?»

«Julius posed that exact question, several times,” said Philip.

«My answer is that even though he didn`t help me, I could still

appreciate his superior skills. Perhaps I was a recalcitrant, resistive

patient, or perhaps my particular type of problem would not yield

to his particular approach.»

«Okay, got it,” said Tony. «I interrupted you, Julius.»

«I`m about finished. I agreed to become his supervisor with

one condition: that he first spend six months in my therapy group.»

«I don`t think you`ve ever explained why you made that

condition,” said Rebecca.

«I observed the way he related to me and to his students and

told him that his impersonal and uncaring manner would interfere

with his becoming a good therapist. Is that your view of it, Philip?»

«Your precise words to me were: ‘How can you be a

therapist when you don`t know what the fuck is going on between

you and other people?`”

«Bingo,” said Pam.

«Sounds like Julius, all right,” said Bonnie.

«Sounds like Julius when his buttons are being pushed,” said

Stuart. «Were you pushing his buttons?»

«Not intentionally,” replied Philip.

«I`m still not clear, Julius,” said Rebecca. «I understand why

you called Philip, and why you advised him to get group therapy.

But why did you put him in your group or agree to supervise him?

You have plenty on your plate now. Why take on this additional

task?»

«You guys are tough today. That`s the big question and I`m

not sure I can answer it, but it`s got something to do with

redemption and setting things right.»

«I know a lot of this discussion was to fill me in and I

appreciate that, «said Pam. «I have just one more query. You said

Philip twice offered you comfort—or tried to. I still haven`t heard

about the first time.»

«Right, we started toward there but never got to it,” Julius

responded. «I attended one of Philip`s lectures and gradually

understood that he had constructed it specifically to offer me some

help. He discussed at length a passage from a novel in which a

dying man obtained much consolation from reading a passage by

Schopenhauer.»

«Which novel?» asked Pam.

«Buddenbrooks,” replied Julius.

«And it wasn`t helpful? Why not?» asked Bonnie.