A man of intellect is like an artist who gives a concert without any help from anyone else, playing on a single instrument—­a piano, say, which is a little orchestra in itself.  Such a man is a little world in himself; and the effect produced by various instruments together, he produces single-handed, in the unity of his own consciousness.  Like the piano, he has no place in a symphony:  he is a soloist and performs by himself,—­in solitude, it may be; or, if in company with other instruments, only as principal; or for setting the tone, as in singing.  However, those who are fond of society from time to time may profit by this simile, and lay it down as a general rule that deficiency of quality in those we meet may be to some extent compensated by an increase in quantity.  One man’s company may be quite enough, if he is clever; but where you have only ordinary people to deal with, it is advisable to have a great many of them, so that some advantage may accrue by letting them all work together,—­on the analogy of the horns; and may Heaven grant you patience for your task!

That mental vacuity and barrenness of soul to which I have alluded, is responsible for another misfortune.  When men of the better class form a society for promoting some noble or ideal aim, the result almost always is that the innumerable mob of humanity comes crowding in too, as it always does everywhere, like vermin—­their object being to try and get rid of boredom, or some other defect of their nature; and anything that will effect that, they seize upon at once, without the slightest discrimination.  Some of them will slip into that society, or push themselves in, and then either soon destroy it altogether, or alter it so much that in the end it comes to have a purpose the exact opposite of that which it had at first.

This is not the only point of view from which the social impulse may be regarded.  On cold days people manage to get some warmth by crowding together; and you can warm your mind in the same way—­by bringing it into contact with others.  But a man who has a great deal of intellectual warmth in himself will stand in no need of such resources.  I have written a little fable illustrating this:  it may be found elsewhere.[1] As a general rule, it may be said that a man’s sociability stands very nearly in inverse ratio to his intellectual value:  to say that “so and so” is very unsociable, is almost tantamount to saying that he is a man of great capacity.

[Footnote 1:  Translator’s Note.  The passage to which Schopenhauer refers is Parerga:  vol. ii.  Sec. 413 (4th edition).  The fable is of certain porcupines, who huddled together for warmth on a cold day; but as they began to prick one another with their quills, they were obliged to disperse.  However the cold drove them together again, when just the same thing happened.  At last, after many turns of huddling and dispersing, they discovered that they would be best off by remaining at a little distance