clock clanged, so he dragged himself out of bed. The morning hardly instilled
him with optimism, but then hardly anything did. He had to wake up and resume
his daily routine. Nothing could prevent his indefatigable will from
accomplishing what he wanted to accomplish. He had mild back pain, but he could
deny this pain because he wanted to start his day.
He had a room in a
shared house. The staircase led to three rooms adjoining each other. The other
residents sometimes talked outside his room, which filled him with anger. His
room teemed with books philosophy, of course, alongside books on
religion, music and history. He had a desk underneath his voluminous book case,
which teemed with reams of paper. His bed was on the other end of the room.
inherited a considerable fortune, so he lived off it. He had left academia
several years earlier, which he did not regret in the slightest. That place was
filled with insufferable charlatans like Hegel who spouted off their
obscurantist jargon. Schopenhauer still boiled with anger when he reminisced as
to how Hegels lectures were overcrowded with eager students whilst hardly
anyone attended his own. Yes, but he himself knew that it was the fate of
geniuses to be sidelined on the periphery of society whilst charlatans and
mediocrities were rewarded.
He read his book,
called The Upanishads. He was interested in Hindu religion. He liked how they
extolled ascetics who recognises the good of the world through contemplation.
He attains absolute freedom by denying the world and taking control of his own
volition. He had read this book and all the passages were heavily underlined.
His library also contained the complete works of Kant also heavily
underlined as well as the complete works of Shakespeare, the Holy Bible
and the complete works of Plato.
It turned eleven in
the morning, so he took out his flute from its case. He practised Mozart, Bach,
Beethoven, Schubert and Brahms. There was one voice from Bachs
Brandenburg Concerto No. 2 which he practised endlessly. He practised every
day, which made him quite accomplished, but still just an amateur
It turned one in the
afternoon, so it was time for lunch. Schopenhauer sauntered over to the
restaurant in the town centre to eat. He had a few activities left throughout
the day eat lunch, read a book, take a walk and finally read a newspaper
He arrived at the
restaurant and ordered steak, potatoes, gravy, cabbages and beetroot. The
waiter had seen Schopenhauer for years, but the guests maudlin expression
always put him off from initiating conversation with him.
eventually brought the dish over to Schopenhauer. He had his eyes fixed on the
meal and he proceeded to slice it with the cutlery. As he devoured the meal, he
looked up and saw a ghastly image appear in front of him another human
being. He had frizzy red hair, a black overcoat and smiled with gormless
expression. Yes, Schopenhauer eventually recognised this ghastly individual, it
was Fritz Bauer. He had been one of the students that attended his lectures
well over a decade ago. He must have been in his early thirties now and, by the
looks of things, had actively tried to seek him out.
Master Schopenhauer, Fritz said, as his eyebrows rose.
What is it,
Fritz, Schopenhauer groaned.
attended your lectures ten years ago, Fritz said.
Yes, yes, I
know! You were there, two other people were there
and everyone else was
attending the lectures of that monstrous Hegel! Schopenhauer bellowed.
His voice echoed across the restaurant and its guests were startled. They all
looked at the cranky old man with alarm.
Yes, I love
The World as Will and Representation
I chose to go to your lectures over
Anyway, I have been working as a clerk at a bank recently. I
recalled my student days studying philosophy
I wanted a bit of that
excitement back, so I tried to find you, Fritz earnestly said.
I will tell
you what, my silly boy, Schopenhauer roared. Go, go away!
thing, dont call me master! I want to finish my meal, read a book, take a
walk and read a newspaper over dinner at another restaurant. So I dont
want any of this human contact!
But I thought that you said that compassion was a good thing, a denial of the
rapacious will... Fritz said, raising his hand.
at him with a venomous stare. I will tell you what, go away and leave me
alone, you young twerp! He was by now shouting rather loudly and everyone
in the restaurant had stopped talking. The manager came over to address the
situation. He was bald, had a red moustache, he was portly and wore a monocle.
Is there an issue here?
twerp wont leave me alone! He came over to talk to me!
that within his rights, sir? Is he harassing you? Do you know each other?
The manager asked.
Oh yes, we do know each other. I attended his lectures at university
several years ago. Sir, you do not realise that one your guests is one of the
greatest minds that ever lived. He is one of the greatest philosophers of all
time! And he comes in here every day! The greatest German idealist! Better than
Kant! He said, waving his arms.
The manager grabbed
his belly and raised his eyebrows. Oh really? Anyway, would you mind
keeping your voices down, it is alarming our other guests. He turned
around and walked away.
It was great
to see you again, master Schopenhauer, Fritz said. Again, he gormlessly
smiled and walked out of the restaurant. Schopenhauer remained unmoved by the
incident and finished his meal. After all, he had not finished his daily