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hall. The embracing students at the end of the row had departed, and even the student

assigned to the blackboard had vanished.

Philip continued:

To me, the most remarkable passages inBuddenbrooks come late in the novel as the

protagonist, the paterfamilias, old Thomas Buddenbrooks, approaches death. One is

astounded by a writer in his early twenties having such insight and such sensibility to

issues concerned with the end of life.(A faint smile played on his lips as Philip held

up the dog–eared book.) I recommend these pages to anyone intending to die.

Julius heard the strike of matches as two students lit cigarettes while exiting the

auditorium.

When death came to claim him, Thomas Buddenbrooks was bewildered and

overcome by despair. None of his belief systems offered him comfort—neither his

religious views which had long before failed to satisfy his metaphysical needs, nor his

worldly skepticism and materialistic Darwinian leaning. Nothing, in Mann`s words,

was able to offer the dying man «in the near and penetrating eye of death a single

hour of calm.»

Here, Philip looked up. «What happened next is of great importance and it is here

that I begin to close in on the designated subject of our lecture tonight.»

In the midst of his desperation Thomas Buddenbrooks chanced to draw from his

bookcase an inexpensive, poorly sewn volume of philosophy bought at a used book

stand years before. He began to read and was immediately soothed. He marveled by

how, as Mann put it, «a master–mind could lay hold of this cruel mocking thing called

life.»

The extraordinary clarity of vision in the volume of philosophy enthralled the

dying man, and hours passed without his looking up from his reading. Then he came

upon a chapter titled «On Death, and Its Relation to Our Personal Immortality» and,

intoxicated by the words, read on as though he were reading for his very life. When

he finished, Thomas Buddenbrooks was a man transformed, a man who had found the

comfort and peace that had eluded him.

What was it that the dying man discovered?(At this point Philip suddenly

adopted an oracular voice.) Now listen well, Julius Hertzfeld, because this may be

useful for life`s final examination....

Shocked at being directly addressed in a public lecture, Julius bolted upright in his

seat. He glanced nervously about him and saw, to his astonishment, that the auditorium

was empty: everyone, even the two homeless men, had left.

But Philip, unperturbed by his vanished audience, calmly continued:

I`ll read a passage fromBuddenbrooks. (He opened a tattered paperback copy of the

book.) «Your assignment is to read the novel, especially part nine, with great care. It

will prove invaluable to you—far more valuable than attempting to extract meaning

from patients` reminiscences of long ago.

Have I hoped to live on in my son? In a personality yet more feeble, flickering, and

timorous than my own? Blind, childish folly! What can my son do for me? Where

shall I be when I am dead? Ah, it is so brilliantly clear. I shall be in all those who

have ever, do ever, or ever shall say «I»—especially, however, in all those who say it

most fully, potently, and gladly!...Have I ever hated life—pure, strong, relentless

life? Folly and misconception! I have but hated myself because I could not bear it. I

love you all, you blessed, and soon, soon, I shall cease to be cut off from you by all

the narrow bonds of myself; soon that in me which loves you will be free and be in

and with you—in and with you all.

Philip closed the novel and returned to his notes.

Now who was the author of the volume which so transformed Thomas

Buddenbrooks? Mann does not reveal his name in the novel, but forty years later he

wrote a magnificent essay which stated that Arthur Schopenhauer was the author of

the volume. Mann then proceeds to describe how, at the age of twenty–three, he first

experienced the great joy of reading Schopenhauer. He was not only entranced by the

ring of Schopenhauer`s words, which he describes as «so perfectly consistently clear,

so rounded, its presentation and language so powerful, so elegant, so unerringly

apposite, so passionately brilliant, so magnificently and blithely severe—like never

any other in the history of German philosophy,” but by the essence of

Schopenhauerian thought, which he describes as «emotional, breathtaking, playing

between violent contrasts, between instinct and mind, passion and redemption.» Then

and there Mann resolved that discovering Schopenhauer was too precious an

experience to keep to himself and straightaway used it creatively by offering the

philosopher to his suffering hero.

And not only Thomas Mann but many other great minds acknowledged their

debt to Arthur Schopenhauer. Tolstoy called Schopenhauer the «genius par excellence

among men.» To Richard Wagner he was a «gift from Heaven.» Nietzsche said his

life was never the same after purchasing a tattered volume of Schopenhauer in a used–book store in Leipzig and, as he put it, «letting that dynamic, dismal genius work on

my mind.» Schopenhauer forever changed the intellectual map of the Western world,

and without him we would have had a very different and weaker Freud, Nietzsche,

Hardy, Wittgenstein, Beckett, Ibsen, Conrad.

Philip pulled out a pocketwatch, studied it for a moment, and then, with great

solemnity:

Here concludes my introduction to Schopenhauer. His philosophy has such breadth

and depth it defies a short summary. Hence I have chosen to pique your curiosity in

the hope that you will read the sixty–page chapter in your text carefully. I prefer to

devote the last twenty minutes of this lecture to audience questions and discussion.

Are there questions from the audience, Dr. Hertzfeld?

Unnerved by Philip`s tone, Julius once again scanned the empty auditorium and

then softly said, «Philip, I wonder if you`re aware that your audience has departed?»

«What audience? Them? Those so–called students?» Philip flicked his wrist in a

disparaging manner to convey that they were beneath his notice, that neither their arrival

nor their departure made the slightest difference to him. «You, Dr. Hertzfeld, are my

audience today. I intended my lecture for you alone,” said Philip, who in no way seemed

discomfited by holding a conversation with someone thirty feet away in a cavernous

deserted auditorium.

«All right, I`ll bite. Why am I your audience today?»

«Think about it, Dr. Hertzfeld...”

«I`d prefer you`d call me Julius. If I refer to you as Philip, and I`m assuming that`s

okay with you, then it`s only right that you call me Julius. Ah, dГ©jГ vu all over again—

how clearly I recall saying so very very long ago, ‘Call me Julius, please—we`re not

strangers.`”

«I am not on a first–name basis with my clients because I am their professional

consultant, not their friend. But, as you wish, Julius it is. I`ll start again. You inquire why

you alone are my intended audience. My answer is that I am merely responding to your

request for help. Think about it, Julius, you came to see me with a request for an

interview and embedded in that request were other requests.»

«Oh?»

«Yes. Let me expand upon this matter. First, there was a tone of urgency in your

voice. It was particularly important to you that I meet with you. Obviously, your request

did not arise from simple curiosity about how I was doing. No, you wanted something

else. You mentioned that your health was imperiled, and, in a sixty–five–year–old man,

that means you must be confronting your death. Hence, I could only assume that you

were frightened and searching for some kind of consolation. My lecture today is my