carriages! But look into them--they are all empty; the coachmen of the
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. Everything in the world is like a
hollow nut; there is little kernel anywhere, and when it does exist,
it is still more rare to find it in the shell. You may look for it
elsewhere, and find it, as a rule, only by chance.

SECTION 2. To estimate a man's condition in regard to happiness, it is
necessary to ask, not what things please him, but what things trouble
him; and the more trivial these things are in themselves, the happier
the man will be. To be irritated