le francais, l’anglais, l’allemand, l’italien et passablement l’espagnol.  Quand il causait, la verve du vieillard brodait sur le canevas un peu lourd de l’allemand ses brilliantes arabesques latines, grecques, francaises, anglaises, italiennes.  C’etait un entrain, une precision et des sailles, une richesse de citations, une exactitude de details qui faisait couler les heures; et quelquefois le petit cercle de ses intimes l’ecoutait jusqu’a minuit, sans qu’un moment de fatigue se fut peint sur ses traits ou que le feu de son regard se fut un instant amorti.  Sa parole nette et accentuee captivait l’auditoire:  elle peignait et analysait tout ensemble; une sensibilite delicate en augmentait le feu; elle etait exacte et precise sur toutes sortes de sujets.”

Schopenhauer died on the 20th September 1860, in his seventy-third year, peacefully, alone as he had lived, but not without warning.  One day in April, taking his usual brisk walk after dinner, he suffered from palpitation of the heart, he could scarcely breathe.  These symptoms developed during the next few months, and Dr. Gwinner advised him to discontinue his cold baths and to breakfast in bed; but Schopenhauer, notwithstanding his early medical training, was little inclined to follow medical advice.  To Dr. Gwinner, on the evening of the 18th September, when he expressed a hope that he might be able to go to Italy, he said that it would be a pity if he died now, as he wished to make several important additions to his Parerga; he spoke about his works and of the warm recognition with which they had been welcomed in the most remote places.  Dr. Gwinner had never before found him so eager and gentle, and left him reluctantly, without, however, the least premonition that he had seen him for the last time.  On the second morning after this interview Schopenhauer got up as usual, and had his cold bath and breakfast.  His servant had opened the window to let in the morning air and had then left him.  A little later Dr. Gwinner arrived and found him reclining in a corner of the sofa; his face wore its customary expression; there was no sign of there having been any struggle with death.  There had been no struggle with death; he had died, as he had hoped he would die, painlessly, easily.

In preparing the above notice the writer has to acknowledge her indebtedness to Dr. Gwinner’s Life and Professor Wallace’s little work on the same subject, as well as to the few other authorities that have been available.—­THE TRANSLATOR.

FOOTNOTES: 

[1] Wallace’s Life, pp. 95, 96.

[2] Wallace, p. 108.

[3] Haldane and Kemp’s The World as Will and Idea.

[4] Wallace, p. 145.

ESSAYS OF SCHOPENHAUER.

ON AUTHORSHIP AND STYLE.