Of Friendship

IT HAD been hard for him that spake it to have

put more truth and untruth together in few

words, than in that speech, Whatsoever is delighted

in solitude, is either a wild beast or a god.  For it is

most true, that a natural and secret hatred, and

aversation towards society, in any man, hath

somewhat of the savage beast; but it is most un-

true, that it should have any character at all, of the

divine nature; except it proceed, not out of a pleas-

ure in solitude, but out of a love and desire to

sequester a man's self, for a higher conversation:

such as is found to have been falsely and feignedly

in some of the heathen; as Epimenides the Can-

dian, Numa the Roman, Empedocles the Sicilian,

and Apollonius of Tyana; and truly and really, in

divers of the ancient hermits and holy fathers of

the church.  But little do men perceive what soli-

tude is, and how far it extendeth.  For a crowd is

not company; and faces are but a gallery of pic-

tures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where

there is no love.  The Latin adage meeteth with it a

little: Magna civitas, magna solitudo; because in

a great town friends are scattered; so that there is

not that fellowship, for the most part, which is in

less neighborhoods.  But we may go further, and

affirm most truly, that it is a mere and miserable

solitude to want true friends; without which the

world is but a wilderness; and even in this sense

also of solitude, whosoever in the frame of his

nature and affections, is unfit for friendship, he

taketh it of the beast, and not from humanity.
 
 

A principal fruit of friendship, is the ease and

discharge of the fulness and swellings of the heart,

which passions of all kinds do cause and induce.

We know diseases of stoppings, and suffocations,

are the most dangerous in the body; and it is not

much otherwise in the mind; you may take sarza

to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flowers

of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain;

but no receipt openeth the heart, but a true friend;

to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes,

suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon

the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or

confession.
 
 

It is a strange thing to observe, how high a rate

great kings and monarchs do set upon this fruit of

friendship, whereof we speak: so great, as they

purchase it, many times, at the hazard of their

own safety and greatness.  For princes, in regard

of the distance of their fortune from that of their

subjects and servants, cannot gather this fruit, ex-

cept (to make themselves capable thereof) they

raise some persons to be, as it were, companions

and almost equals to themselves, which many

times sorteth to inconvenience.  The modern lan-

guages give unto such persons the name of favor-

ites, or privadoes; as if it were matter of grace, or

conversation.  But the Roman name attaineth the

true use and cause thereof, naming them parti-

cipes curarum; for it is that which tieth the knot.

And we see plainly that this hath been done, not

by weak and passionate princes only, but by the

wisest and most politic that ever reigned; who

have oftentimes joined to themselves some of

their servants; whom both themselves have called

friends, and allowed other likewise to call them in

the same manner; using the word which is re-

ceived between private men.
 
 

L. Sylla, when he commanded Rome, raised

Pompey (after surnamed the Great) to that height,

that Pompey vaunted himself for Sylla's over-

match.  For when he had carried the consulship for

a friend of his, against the pursuit of Sylla, and

that Sylla did a little resent thereat, and began to

speak great, Pompey turned upon him again, and

in effect bade him be quiet; for that more men

adored the sun rising, than the sun setting.  With

Julius Caesar, Decimus Brutus had obtained that

interest as he set him down in his testament, for

heir in remainder, after his nephew.  And this was

the man that had power with him, to draw him

forth to his death.  For when Caesar would have

discharged the senate, in regard of some ill pres-

ages, and specially a dream of Calpurnia; this

man lifted him gently by the arm out of his chair,

telling him he hoped he would not dismiss the

senate, till his wife had dreamt a better dream.

And it seemeth his favor was so great, as Antonius,

in a letter which is recited verbatim in one of

Cicero's Philippics, calleth him venefica, witch;

as if he had enchanted Caesar.  Augustus raised

Agrippa (though of mean birth) to that height, as

when he consulted with Maecenas, about the mar-

riage of his daughter Julia, Maecenas took the

liberty to tell him, that he must either marry his

daughter to Agrippa, or take away his life; there

was no third way, he had made him so great.  With

Tiberius Caesar, Sejanus had ascended to that

height, as they two were termed, and reckoned, as

a pair of friends.  Tiberius in a letter to him saith,

Haec pro amicitia nostra non occultavi; and the

whole senate dedicated an altar to Friendship, as

to a goddess, in respect of the great dearness of

friendship, between them two.  The like, or more,

was between Septimius Severus and Plautianus.

For he forced his eldest son to marry the daughter

of Plautianus; and would often maintain Plau-

tianus, in doing affronts to his son; and did write

also in a letter to the senate, by these words: I love

the man so well, as I wish he may over-live me.

Now if these princes had been as a Trajan, or a

Marcus Aurelius, a man might have thought that

this had proceeded of an abundant goodness of

nature; but being men so wise, of such strength

and severity of mind, and so extreme lovers of

themselves, as all these were, it proveth most

plainly that they found their own felicity (though

as great as ever happened to mortal men) but as

an half piece, except they mought have a friend,

to make it entire; and yet, which is more, they

were princes that had wives, sons, nephews; and

yet all these could not supply the comfort of friend-

ship.
 
 

It is not to be forgotten, what Comineus observ-

eth of his first master, Duke Charles the Hardy,

namely, that he would communicate his secrets

with none; and least of all, those secrets which

troubled him most.  Whereupon he goeth on, and

saith that towards his latter time, that closeness

did impair, and a little perish his understanding.

Surely Comineus mought have made the same

judgment also, if it had pleased him, of his second

master, Lewis the Eleventh, whose closeness was

indeed his tormentor.  The parable of Pythagoras

is dark, but true; Cor ne edito; Eat not the heart.

Certainly, if a man would give it a hard phrase,

those that want friends, to open themselves unto,

are carnnibals of their own hearts.  But one thing

is most admirable (wherewith I will conclude this

first fruit of friendship), which is, that this com-

municating of a man's self to his friend, works

two contrary effects; for it redoubleth joys, and

cutteth griefs in halves.  For there is no man, that

imparteth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the

more; and no man that imparteth his griefs to his

friend, but he grieveth the less.  So that it is in truth,

of operation upon a man's mind, of like virtue as

the alchemists use to attribute to their stone, for

man's body; that it worketh all contrary effects,

but still to the good and benefit of nature.  But yet

without praying in aid of alchemists, there is a

manifest image of this, in the ordinary course of

nature.  For in bodies, union strengtheneth and

cherisheth any natural action; and on the other

side, weakeneth and dulleth any violent impres-

sion: and even so it is of minds.
 
 

The second fruit of friendship, is healthful and

sovereign for the understanding, as the first is for

the affections.  For friendship maketh indeed a fair

day in the affections, from storm and tempests; but

it maketh daylight in the understanding, out of

darkness, and confusion of thoughts.  Neither is

this to be understood only of faithful counsel,

which a man receiveth from his friend; but before

you come to that, certain it is, that whosoever hath

his mind fraught with many thoughts, his wits

and understanding do clarify and break up, in the

communicating and discoursing with another; he

tosseth his thoughts more easily; he marshalleth

them more orderly, he seeth how they look when

they are turned into words: finally, he waxeth

wiser than himself; and that more by an hour's

discourse, than by a day's meditation.  It was well

said by Themistocles, to the king of Persia, That

speech was like cloth of Arras, opened and put

abroad; whereby the imagery doth appear in

figure; whereas in thoughts they lie but as in

packs.  Neither is this second fruit of friendship, in

opening the understanding, restrained only to

such friends as are able to give a man counsel;

(they indeed are best;) but even without that, a

man learneth of himself, and bringeth his own

thoughts  to light, and whetteth his wits as against

a stone, which itself cuts not.  In a word, a man

were better relate himself to a statua, or picture,

than to suffer his thoughts to pass in smother.
 
 

Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship

complete, that other point, which lieth more open,

and falleth within vulgar observation; which is

faithful counsel from a friend.  Heraclitus saith

well in one of his enigmas, Dry light is ever the

best.  And certain it is, that the light that a man

receiveth by counsel from another, is drier and

purer, than that which cometh from his own

understanding and judgment; which is ever in-

fused, and drenched, in his affections and customs.

So as there is as much difference between the coun-

sel, that a friend giveth, and that a man giveth

himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend,

and of a flatterer.  For there is no such flatterer as

is a man's self; and there is no such remedy against

flattery of a man's self, as the liberty of a friend.

Counsel is of two sorts: the one concerning man-

ners, the other concerning business.  For the first,

the best preservative to keep the mind in health, is

the faithful admonition of a friend.  The calling of

a man's self to a strict account, is a medicine, some-

time too piercing and corrosive.  Reading good

books of morality, is a little flat and dead.  Observ-

ing our faults in others, is sometimes improper for

our case.  But the best receipt (best, I say, to work,

and best to take) is the admonition of a friend.

It is a strange thing to behold, what gross errors

and extreme absurdities many (especially of the

greater sort) do commit, for want of a friend to tell

them of them; to the great damage both of their

fame and fortune: for, as St. James saith, they are

as men that look sometimes into a glass, and pres-

ently forget their own shape and favor.  As for

business, a man may think, if he win, that two

eyes see no more than one; or that a gamester seeth

always more than a looker-on; or that a man in

anger, is as wise as he that hath said over the four

and twenty letters; or that a musket may be shot

off as well upon the arm, as upon a rest; and such

other fond and high imaginations, to think him-

self all in all.  But when all is done, the help of good

counsel, is that which setteth business straight.

And if any man think that he will take counsel,

but it shall be by pieces; asking counsel in one

business, of one man, and in another business, of

another man; it is well (that is to say, better, per-

haps, than if he asked none at all); but he runneth

two dangers: one, that he shall not be faithfully

counselled; for it is a rare thing, except it be from

a perfect and entire friend, to have counsel given,

but such as shall be bowed and crooked to some

ends, which he hath, that giveth it.  The other, that

he shall have counsel given, hurtful and unsafe

(though with good meaning), and mixed partly of

mischief and partly of remedy; even as if you

would call a physician, that is thought good for

the cure of the disease you complain of, but is unac-

quainted with your body; and therefore may put

you in way for a present cure, but overthroweth

your health in some other kind; and so cure the

disease, and kill the patient.  But a friend that is

wholly acquainted with a man's estate, will be-

ware, by furthering any present business, how he

dasheth upon other inconvenience.  And therefore

rest not upon scattered counsels; they will rather

distract and mislead, than settle and direct.
 
 

After these two noble fruits of friendship (peace

in the affections, and support of the judgment),

followeth the last fruit; which is like the pome-

granate, full of many kernels; I mean aid, and

bearing a part, in all actions and occasions.  Here

the best way to represent to life the manifold use

of friendship, is to cast and see how many things

there are, which a man cannot do himself; and

then it will appear, that it was a sparing speech of

the ancients, to say, that a friend is another him-

self; for that a friend is far more than himself.

Men have their time, and die many times, in de-

sire of some things which they principally take to

heart; the bestowing of a child, the finishing of a

work, or the like.  If a man have a true friend, he

may rest almost secure that the care of those things

will continue after him.  So that a man hath, as it

were, two lives in his desires.  A man hath a body,

and that body is confined to a place; but where

friendship is, all offices of life are as it were granted

to him, and his deputy.  For he may exercise them

by his friend.  How many things are there which

a man cannot, with any face or comeliness, say or

do himself?  A man can scarce allege his own

merits with modesty, much less extol them; a man

cannot sometimes brook to supplicate or beg; and

a number of the like.  But all these things are grace-

ful, in a friend's mouth, which are blushing in a

man's own.  So again, a man's person hath many

proper relations, which he cannot put off.  A man

cannot speak to his son but as a father; to his wife

but as a husband; to his enemy but upon terms:

whereas a friend may speak as the case requires,

and not as it sorteth with the person.  But to enu-

merate these things were endless; I have given the

rule, where a man cannot fitly play his own part;

if he have not a friend, he may quit the stage.