The Schopenhauer Cure

A Novel

Irvin D. Yalom

To my community of older buddies who grace me with their friendship, share life`s

inexorable diminishments and losses, and continue to sustain me with their wisdom and

dedication to the life of the mind: Robert Berger, Murray Bilmes, Martel Bryant, Dagfinn

Føllesdahl, Joseph Frank, Van Harvey, Julius Kaplan, Herbert Kotz, Morton Lieberman,

Walter Sokel, Saul Spiro, and Larry Zaroff.

4

1787—The

Genius: Stormy

Beginning

and False Start

_________________________

Talentis like a marksman who

hits a target which others

cannot reach; genius is like a

marksman who hits a target

which others cannot see.

_________________________

Stormy Beginning—The genius was only four inches long when the storms began. In

September of 1787 his enveloping amniotic sea roiled, tossed him to and fro, and

threatened his fragile attachment to the uterine shore. The sea waters reeked of anger and

fear. The sour chemicals of nostalgia and despair enveloped him. Gone forever were

sweet balmy bobbing days. With nowhere to turn and no hope of comfort, his tiny neural

synapses flared and fired in all directions.

What is young–learned is best–learned. Arthur Schopenhauer never forgot his early

lessons.

False Start (or How Arthur Schopenhauer almost became an Englishman)—Arthurrr.

Arthurrr, Arthurrrr. Heinrich Florio Schopenhauer scratched each syllable with his

tongue. Arthur—a good name, an excellent name for the future head of the great

Schopenhauer mercantile house.

It was 1787, and his young wife, Johanna, was two months pregnant when

Heinrich Schopenhauer made a decision: if he had a son, he would name him Arthur. An

honorable man, Heinrich allowed nothing to take precedence over duty. Just as his

ancestors had passed the stewardship of the great Schopenhauer mercantile house to him,

he would pass it to his son. These were perilous times, but Heinrich was confident that

his yet unborn son would guide the firm into the nineteenth century. Arthur was the

perfect name for the position. It was a name spelled the same in all major European

languages, a name which would slip gracefully through all national borders. But, most

important of all, it was an English name!

For centuries Heinrich`s ancestors had guided the Schopenhauer business with

great diligence and success. Heinrich`s grandfather once hosted Catherine the Great of

Russia and, to ensure her comfort, ordered brandy to be poured over the floors of the

guest quarters and then set afire to leave the rooms dry and aromatic. Heinrich`s father

had been visited by Frederick, the king of Prussia, who spent hours attempting,

unsuccessfully, to persuade him to shift the company from Danzig to Prussia. And now

the stewardship of the great merchant house had passed to Heinrich, who was convinced

that a Schopenhauer bearing the name of Arthur would lead the firm into a brilliant

future.

The Schopenhauer mercantile house, dealing in the trade of grains, timber, and

coffee, had long been one of the leading firms of Danzig, that venerable Hanseatic city

which had long dominated the Baltic trade. But bad times had come for the grand free

city. With Prussia menacing in the west and Russia in the east, and with a weakened

Poland no longer able to continue guaranteeing Danzig`s sovereignty, Heinrich

Schopenhauer had no doubt that Danzig`s days of freedom and trading stability were

coming to an end. All of Europe was awash in political and financial turmoil—save

England. England was the rock. England was the future. The Schopenhauer firm and

family would find safe haven in England. No, more than safe haven, it would prosper if

its future head should be born an Englishman and bear an English name. Herr Arthurrr

Schopenhauer, no—Mister Arthurrr Schopenhauer—an English subject heading the firm:

that was the ticket to the future.

So, paying no heed to the protests of his teenaged pregnant wife, who pleaded to be

in her mother`s calming presence for the birth of her first child, he set off, wife in tow,

for the long trip to England. The young Johanna was aghast but had to submit to the

unbending will of her husband. Once settled in London, however, Johanna`s ebullient

spirit returned and her charm soon captivated London society. She wrote in her travel

journal that her new English loving friends offered comforting reassurance and that

before long she was the center of much attention.

Too much attention and too much love for the dour Heinrich, apparently, whose

anxious jealousy shortly escalated into panic. Unable to catch his breath and feeling as

though the tension in his chest would split him asunder, he had to do something. And so,

reversing his course, he abruptly left London, carting his protesting wife, now almost six

months pregnant, back to Danzig during one of the century`s most severe winters. Years

later Johanna described her feelings at being yanked from London: «No one helped me, I

had to overcome my grief alone. The man dragged me, in order to cope with his anxiety,

halfway across Europe.»

This, then, was the stormy setting of the genius`s gestation: a loveless marriage, a

frightened, protesting mother, an anxious, jealous father, and two arduous trips across a

wintry Europe.