Els assaigs d'Arthur Schopenhauer: consells i màximes

whole town are the sole escort the dead man has to his grave. Eloquent picture of the friendship and esteem of the world! This is the falsehood, the hollowness, the hypocrisy of human affairs! Take another example--a roomful of guests in full dress, being received with great ceremony. You could almost believe that this is a noble and distinguished company; but, as a matter of fact, it is compulsion, pain and boredom who are the real guests. For where many are invited, it is a rabble--even if they all wear stars. Really good society is everywhere of necessity very small. In brilliant festivals and noisy entertainments, there is always, at bottom, a sense of emptiness prevalent. A false tone is there: such gatherings are in strange contrast with the misery and barrenness of our existence. The contrast brings the true condition into greater relief. Still, these gatherings are effective from the outside; and that is just their purpose. Chamfort[1] makes the excellent remark that _society_--_les cercles, les salons, ce qu'on appelle le monde_--is like a miserable play, or a bad opera, without any interest in itself, but supported for a time by mechanical aid, costumes and scenery. [Footnote 1: _Translator's Note_. Nicholas "Chamfort" (1741-94), a French miscellaneous writer, whose brilliant conversation, power of sarcasm, and epigrammic force, coupled with an extraordinary career, render him one of the most interesting and remarkable men of his time. Schopenhauer undoubtedly owed much to this writer, to whom he constantly refers.] And so, too, with academies and chairs of philosophy. You have a kind of sign-board hung out to show the apparent abode of _wisdom_: but wisdom is another guest who declines the invitation; she is to be found elsewhere. The chiming of bells, ecclesiastical millinery, attitudes of devotion, insane antics--these are the pretence, the false show of _piety_. And so on.…