“Thy voice is on the rolling air;
I hear thee where the waters run;
Thou standest in the rising sun,
And in the setting thou art fair.
What art thou then? I cannot guess;
But tho’ I seem in star and flower
To feel thee some diffusive power,
I do not therefore love thee less:
My love involves the love before;
My love is vaster passion now;
Tho’ mixed with God and Nature thou,
I seem to love thee more and more.
Far off thou art, but ever nigh;
I have thee still, and I rejoice;
I prosper, circled with thy voice;
I shall not lose thee tho’ I die.”
[Sidenote: _Browning’s “May and Death”_]
Following is a little poem by Robert Browning entitled _May and Death_,
which may well be placed near the stanzas of _In Memoriam_:—
“I wish that when you died last May,
Charles, there had died along with you
Three parts of Spring’s delightful things;
Ay, and for me the fourth part too.
A foolish thought, and worse, perhaps!
There must be many a pair of friends
Who arm-in-arm deserve the warm
Moon-births and the long evening-ends.
So, for their sake, be May still May!
Let their new time, as mine of old,
Do all it did for me; I bid
Sweet sights and sounds throng manifold.
Only one little sight, one plant
Woods have in May, that starts up green
Save a sole streak which, so to speak,
Is Spring’s blood, spilt its leaves between—
That, they might spare; a certain wood
Might miss the plant; their loss were small;
But I—whene’er the leaf grows there—
It’s drop comes from my heart, that’s all.”
[Sidenote: _Ralph Waldo Emerson_]
Between Browning and Whitman we may insert a few lines from R. W.
Emerson:—
“The only way to have a friend is to be one.... In the last
analysis love is only the reflection of a man’s own worthiness
from other men. Men have sometimes exchanged names with their
friends, as if they would signify that in their friend each loved
his own soul.
“The higher the style we demand of friendship, of course the less
easy to establish it with flesh and blood.... Friends, such as we
desire, are dreams and fables. But a sublime hope cheers ever the
faithful heart, that elsewhere, in other regions of the universal
power, souls are now acting, enduring, and daring, which can love
us, and which we can love.” _Essay on Friendship._
[Sidenote: _Henry D. Thoreau_]
These also from Henry D. Thoreau:—
“No word is oftener on the lips of men than Friendship, and
indeed no thought is more familiar to their aspirations. All men
are dreaming of it, and its drama, which is always a tragedy, is
enacted daily. It is the secret of the universe. You may thread
the town, you may wander the country, and none shall ever speak
of it, yet thought is everywhere busy about it, and the idea of
what is possible in this respect affects our behaviour towards
all new men and women, and a great many old ones. Nevertheless
I can remember only two or three essays on this subject in all
literature.... To say that a man is your friend, means commonly
no more than this, that he is not your enemy. Most contemplate
only what would be the accidental and trifling advantages of
friendship, as that the friend can assist in time of need, by his
substance, or his influence, or his counsel; but he who foresees
such advantages in this relation proves himself blind to its
real advantage, or indeed wholly inexperienced in the relation
itself.... What is commonly called Friendship is only a little
more honour among rogues. But sometimes we are said to _love_
another, that is, to stand in a true relation to him, so that we
give the best to, and receive the best from, him. Between whom
there is hearty truth there is love; and in proportion to our
truthfulness and confidence in one another our lives are divine
and miraculous, and answer to our ideal. There are passages of
affection in our intercourse with mortal men and women, such as
no prophecy had taught us to expect, which transcend our earthly
life, and anticipate heaven for us.” _From On the Concord River._
[Sidenote: _Walt Whitman_]
I conclude this collection with a few quotations from Whitman, for whom
“the love of comrades” perhaps stands as the most intimate part of his
message to the world—“Here the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest
lasting.” Whitman, by his great power, originality and initiative,
as well as by his deep insight and wide vision, is in many ways the
inaugurator of a new era to mankind; and it is especially interesting to
find that this idea of comradeship, and of its establishment as a _social
institution_, plays so important a part with him. We have seen that in
the Greek age, and more or less generally in the ancient and pagan world,
comradeship was an institution; we have seen that in Christian and modern
times, though existent, it was socially denied and ignored, and indeed
to a great extent fell under a kind of ban; and now Whitman’s attitude
towards it suggests to us that it really is destined to pass into its
third stage, to arise again, and become a recognised factor of modern
life, and even in a more extended and perfect form than at first.[9]
“It is to the development, identification, and general prevalence
of that fervid comradeship (the adhesive love, at least rivaling
the amative love hitherto possessing imaginative literature, if
not going beyond it), that I look for the counterbalance and
offset of our materialistic and vulgar American Democracy, and
for the spiritualisation thereof. Many will say it is a dream,
and will not follow my inferences; but I confidently expect
a time when there will be seen, running like a half-hid warp
through all the myriad audible and visible worldly interests
of America, threads of manly friendship, fond and loving, pure
and sweet, strong and lifelong, carried to degrees hitherto
unknown—not only giving tone to individual character, and making
it unprecedently emotional, muscular, heroic, and refined, but
having deepest relations to general politics. I say Democracy
infers such loving comradeship, as its most inevitable twin or
counterpart, without which it will be incomplete, in vain, and
incapable of perpetuating itself.” _Democratic Vistas, note._
[Sidenote: _“Leaves of Grass”_]
The three following poems are taken from _Leaves of Grass_:—
“Recorders ages hence,
Come, I will take you down underneath this impassive exterior, I will
tell you what to say of me,
Publish my name and hang up my picture as that of the tenderest lover,
The friend the lover’s portrait, of whom his friend his lover was
fondest,
Who was not proud of his songs, but of the measureless ocean of love
within him, and freely pour’d it forth,
Who often walk’d lonesome walks thinking of his dear friends, his
lovers,
Who pensive away from one he lov’d often lay sleepless and dissatisfied
at night,
Who knew too well the sick, sick dread lest the one he lov’d might
secretly be indifferent to him,
Whose happiest days were far away through fields, in woods, on hills,
he and another wandering hand in hand, they twain apart from other
men,
Who oft as he saunter’d the streets curv’d with his arm the shoulder
of his friend, while the arm of his friend rested upon him also.”
_Leaves of Grass_, 1891-2 edn., p. 102.
“When I heard at the close of the day how my name had been receiv’d with
plaudits in the capital, still it was not a happy night for me that
follow’d,
And else when I carous’d, or when my plans were accomplish’d, still I
was not happy,
But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health,
refresh’d, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn,
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in the
morning light,
When I wander’d alone over the beach, and undressing bathed, laughing
with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise,
And when I thought how my dear friend my lover was on his way coming,
O then I was happy,
O then each breath tasted sweeter, and all that day my food nourish’d
me more, and the beautiful day pass’d well,
And the next came with equal joy, and with the next at evening came my
friend,
And that night while all was still I heard the waters roll slowly
continuously up the shores,
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands as directed to me
whispering to congratulate me,
For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the
cool night,
In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined toward me,
And his arm lay lightly around my breast—and that night I was happy.”
_Ibid_, p. 103.
“I hear it was charged against me that I sought to destroy institutions,
But really I am neither for nor against institutions,
(What indeed have I in common with them? or what with the destruction of
them?)
Only I will establish in the Mannahatta and in every city of these States
inland and seaboard,
And in the fields and woods, and above every keel little or large that
dents the water,
Without edifices or rules or trustees or any argument,
The institution of the dear love of comrades.”
_Ibid_, p. 107.
_Additions_
[1906]
_Greek Times_
[Sidenote: _Aristotle_]
Aristotle (Ethics bk. viii.) says:
“Friendship is a thing most necessary to life, since without
friends no one would choose to live, though possessed of all
other advantages.”... “Since then his own life is, to a good man,
a thing naturally sweet and ultimately desirable, for a similar
reason is the life of his friend agreeable to him, and delightful
merely on its own account, and without reference to any object
beyond it; and to live without friends is to be destitute of
a good, unconditioned, absolute, and in itself desirable; and
therefore to be deprived of one of the most solid and most
substantial of all enjoyments.”
“Being asked ‘What is Friendship?’ Aristotle replied ‘One soul in
two bodies.’” _Diog. Laertius._
[Sidenote: _Epaminondas and Pelopidas_]
Epaminondas and Pelopidas, the Theban statesmen and generals, were
celebrated for their devotion to each other. In a battle (B.C. 385)
against the Arcadians, Epaminondas is said to have saved his friend’s
life. Plutarch in his Life of Pelopidas relates of them:—
“Epaminondas and he were both born with the same dispositions to
all kinds of virtues, but Pelopidas took more pleasure in the
exercises of the body, and Epaminondas in the improvements of
the mind; so that they spent all their leisure time, the one in
hunting, and the palestra, the other in learned conversation, and
the study of philosophy. But of all the famous actions for which
they are so much celebrated, the judicious part of mankind reckon
none so great and glorious as that strict friendship which they
inviolably preserved through the whole course of their lives, in
all the high posts they held, both military and civil.... For
being both in that battle, near one another in the infantry, and
fighting against the Arcadians, that wing of the Lacedæmonians
in which they were, gave way and was broken; which Pelopidas and
Epaminondas perceiving, they joined their shields, and keeping
close together, bravely repulsed all that attacked them, till at
last Pelopidas, after receiving seven large wounds, fell upon a
heap of friends and enemies that lay dead together. Epaminondas,
though he believed him slain, advanced before him to defend his
body and arms, and for a long time maintained his ground against
great numbers of the Arcadians, being resolved to die rather
than desert his companion and leave him in the enemy’s power;
but being wounded in his breast by a spear, and in his arm by a
sword, he was quite disabled and ready to fall, when Agesipolis,
king of the Spartans, came from the other wing to his relief, and
beyond all expectation saved both their lives.”
[Sidenote: _Polemon and Krates_]
Polemon and Krates were followers of Plato in philosophy, and in their
time (about 300 B.C.) leaders of the Platonic School. They were,
according to Hesychius, devoted friends:
“Krates and Polemon loved each other so well that they not only
were occupied in life with the same work, but they almost drew
breath simultaneously; and in death they shared the same grave.
On account of which, Archesilaus, who visited them in company
with Theophrastus (a pupil of Aristotle), spoke of them as gods,
or survivors from the Golden Age.”
_Hesychius_ xl.
[Sidenote: _Alexander and Hephæstion_]
Alexander, the great World-Conqueror, was born B.C. 356, and was King of
Macedonia B.C. 336-323. His great favorite was Hephæstion, who had been
brought up and educated with him.
“When Hephæstion died at Ecbatana (in 324) Alexander placed his
weapons upon the funeral pyre, with gold and silver for the dead
man, and a robe—which last, among the Persians is a symbol of
great honour. He shore off his own hair, as in Homeric grief,
and behaved like the Achilles of Homer. Indeed he acted more
violently and passionately than the latter, for he caused the
towers and strongholds of Ecbatana to be demolished all round. As
long as he only dedicated his own hair, he was behaving, I think,
like a Greek; but when he laid hands on the very walls, Alexander
was already showing his grief in foreign fashion. Even in his
clothing he departed from ordinary custom, and gave himself up to
his mood, his love, and his tears.”
_Aelian’s Varia Historia_, vii, 8.
_Persian Poetry_
[Sidenote: _From Sadi’s Rose-Garden_]
Von Kupffer, in his Anthology, _Lieblingminne und Freundes liebe in der
Weltliteratur_, gives the following three poems from Sadi and Hafiz:—
“A youth there was of golden heart and nature,
Who loved a friend, his like in every feature;
Once, as upon the ocean sailed the pair,
They chanced into a whirlpool unaware.
A fisherman made haste the first to save,
Ere his young life should meet a watery grave;
But crying from the raging surf, he said:
‘Leave me, and seize my comrade’s hand instead.’
E’en as he spoke the mortal swoon o’ertook him,
With that last utterance life and sense forsook him.
Learn not love’s temper from that shallow pate
Who in the hour of fear forsakes his mate;
True friends will ever act like him above
(Trust one who is experienced in love);
For Sadi knows full well the lover’s part,
And Bagdad understands the Arab heart.
More than all else thy loved one shalt thou prize,
Else is the whole world hidden from thine eyes.”
[Sidenote: _From Sadi’s Pleasure Garden_]
“Lov’st thou a being formed of dust like thee—
Peace and contentment from thy heart shall flee;
Waking, fair limbs and features shall torment thee;
Sleeping, thy love in dreams shall hold and haunt thee.
Under his feet thy head is bowed to earth;
Compared with him the world’s a paltry crust;
If to thy loved one gold is nothing worth,
Why, then to thee is gold no more than dust.
Hardly a word for others canst thou find,
For no room’s left for others in thy mind.”
[Sidenote: _Hafiz to his Friend_]
“Dear Friend, since thou hast passed the whole
Of one sweet night, till dawn, with me,
I were scarce mortal, could I spend
Another hour apart from thee.
The fear of death, for all of time
Hath left me since my soul partook
The water of true Life, that wells
In sweet abundance from thy brook.”
_Renaissance_
[Sidenote: _Beaumont and Fletcher_]
Beaumont and Fletcher are two names which time and immortal friendship
have sealed in one. Francis Beaumont was son of a judge, and John
Fletcher, who was some four or five years the elder of the two, son of
a bishop. The one went to Oxford, the other to Cambridge. Both took to
writing at an early age; they probably met at the Mermaid Tavern, about
the year 1604, and a friendship sprang up between them of the closest
character. “The intimacy which now commenced was one of singular warmth
even for that romantic age.” (Chambers’ Biog. Dict.) For many years they
lived in the same house as bachelors, writing plays together, and sharing
everything in common. Then in 1613 Beaumont married, but died in 1616.
Fletcher lived on unmarried, till 1625, when he died of the plague.
J. St. L. Strachey, in his introduction to the works of Beaumont and
Fletcher in the Mermaid Series, says:—
“In the whole range of English literature, search it from
Chaucer till to-day, there is no figure more fascinating or more
worthy of attention than ‘the mysterious double personallity’ of
Beaumont and Fletcher. Whether we bow to the sentiment of the
first Editor, who, though he knew the secret of the poets, yet
since never parted while they lived’ conceived it not equitable
to ‘separate their ashes,’ and so refuse to think of them apart;
whether we adopt the legendary union of the comrade-poets who
dwelt on the Bank-side, who lived and worked together, their
thoughts no less in common than the cloak and bed o’er which
tradition has grown fond; whether we think of them as two minds
so married that to divorce or disunite them were a sacrilegious
deed; or whether we yield to the subtler influences of the
critical fancy, and delight to discover and explore each from its
source, the twin fountains of inspiration that feed the majestic
stream of song that flows through ‘The Lost Aspatia’s’ tragedy,
etc. ... whether we treat the poets as a mystery to which love
and sympathy are the initiation, or as a problem for the tests
and reagents of critical analysis to solve, the double name of
Beaumont and Fletcher will ever strike the fancy and excite the
imagination as does no other name in the annals of English song.”
George Varley, in his Introduction to the works of B. and F. (London, E.
Moxon, 1839) says:—
“The story of their common life, which scandalises some
biographers, contains much that is agreeable to me, as offering a
picture of perfect union whose heartiness excuses its homeliness
... but when critics would explain away the community of cloak
and clothes by accident or slander, methinks their fastidiousness
exceeds their good feeling.”
[Sidenote: _Sweet Fletcher’s Brain_]
Beaumont was a man of great personal beauty and charm. Ben Jonson was
much attracted to him. Fletcher delighted to do him honour and to put his
name first on their title page; though it is probable that Beaumont’s
share in the plays was the lesser one. See following verses by Sir Aston
Cokaine in the 1st Collection of their works, published 1647:—
“In the large book of playes you late did print,
In Beaumont and in Fletcher’s name, why in’t
Did you not justice? Give to each his due?
For Beaumont of those many writ in few,
And Massinger in other few; the main
Being sole issues of sweet Fletcher’s brain.
But how came I, you ask, so much to know?
Fletcher’s chief bosome-friend inform’d me so.”
[Sidenote: _Fletcher’s lament for his Friend_]
The following lines were written by Fletcher on the death of Beaumont:—
“Come, sorrow, come! bring all thy cries,
All thy laments, and all thy weeping eyes!
Burn out, you living monuments of woe!
Sad, sullen griefs, now rise and overflow!
Virtue is dead;
Oh! cruel fate!
All youth is fled;
All our laments too late.
Oh, noble youth, to thy ne’er dying name,
Oh, happy youth, to thy still growing fame,
To thy long peace in earth, this sacred knell
Our last loves ring—farewell, farewell, farewell!
Go, happy soul, to thy eternal birth!
And press his body lightly, gentle Earth.”
[Sidenote: _An Epitaph_]
And among the poems attributed to Francis Beaumont is one generally
supposed to be addressed to Fletcher, and speaking of an alliance hidden
from the world—of which the last five lines run:—
“If when I die, physicians doubt
What caused my death, and these to view
Of all their judgments, which was true,
Rip up my heart; O, then I fear
The world will see thy picture there.”
—though it is perhaps more probable that it was addressed to Beaumont by
Fletcher, and has accidentally found place among the former’s writings.
In the _Maids Tragedy_ by B. and F., (Act I. Scene i.) we have Melantius
speaking about his companion Amintor, a young nobleman:—
“All joys upon him! for he is my friend.
Wonder not that I call a man so young my friend:
His worth is great; radiant he is, and temperate;
And one that never thinks his life his own,
If his friend need it.”
[Sidenote: _Vauvenargues on De Seytres_]
The devotion of Vauvenargues to his friend De Seytres is immortalized by
the _éloge_ he wrote on the occasion of the latter’s death. V., a youth
of noble family, born in S. France in 1715, entered military service and
the regiment of the King at an early age. He seems to have been a gentle,
wise character, much beloved by his comrades. During the French invasion
of Bohemia, in 1741, when he was about 26, he met Hippolyte de Seytres,
who belonged to the same regiment, and who was only 18 years of age. A
warm friendship sprang up between the two, but lasted for a brief time
only. De Seytres died during the privations of the terrible Siege of
Prague in 1742. Vauvenargues escaped, but with the loss of his health, as
well as of his friend. He took to literature, and wrote some philosophic
works, and became correspondent and friend of Voltaire, but died in
1747 at the early age of 32. In his _éloge_ he speaks of his friend as
follows:—
“By nature full of grace, his movements natural, his manners
frank, his features noble and grave, his expression sweet and
penetrating; one could not look upon him with indifference. From
the first his loveable exterior won all hearts in his favour, and
whoever was in the position to know his character could not but
admire the beauty of his disposition. Never did he despise or
envy or hate anyone. He understood all the passions and opinions,
even the most singular, that the world blames. They did not
surprise him; he penetrated their cause, and found in his own
reflexions the means of explaining them.”
“And so Hippolyte,” he continues, “I was destined to be the
survivor in our friendship—just when I was hoping that it would
mitigate all the sufferings and ennui of my life even to my
latest breath. At the moment when my heart, full of security,
placed blind confidence in thy strength and youth, and abandoned
itself to gladness—O Misery! in that moment a mighty hand was
extinguishing the sources of life in thy blood. Death was
creeping into thy heart, and harbouring in thy bosom!... O pardon
me once more; for never canst thou have doubted the depth of my
attachment. I loved thee before I was able to know thee. I have
never loved but thee ... I was ignorant of thy very name and
life, but my heart adored thee, spoke with thee, saw thee and
sought thee in solitude. Thou knewest me but for a moment; and
when we did become acquainted, already a thousand times had I
paid homage in secret to thy virtues.... Shade worthy of heaven,
whither hast thou fled! Do my sighs reach thee? I tremble—O abyss
profound, O woe, O death, O grave! Dark veil and viewless night,
and mystery of Eternity!”
(It is said that Vauvenargues thought more of this memorial inscription
to his friend than of any other of his works, and constantly worked at
and perfected it.)
[Sidenote: _From Schiller’s Don Karlos_]
Schiller, the great German poet, had an enthusiastic appreciation of
friendship-love, as can be seen from his poems “Freundschaft” and “Die
Burgschaft,” and others of his writings. His tragedy Don Karlos turns
upon the death of one friend for the sake of another. The young Infanta
of Spain, Don Karlos, alienated by the severities of his father, Phillip
II., enters into plots and intrigues, from the consequences of which he
is only saved by his devoted companion, the Marquis of Posa, who, by
making himself out the guilty party, dies in the Prince’s stead. Early in
the play (Act I., Scene ii.) the attachment between the two is outlined:—
[Sidenote: _Karlos and Roderick_]
_Karlos._ Oh, if indeed ’tis true—
What my heart says—that out of millions, thou
Hast been decreed at last to understand me;
If it be true that Nature all-creative
In moulding Karlos copied Roderick,
And strung the tender chords of our two souls
Harmonious in the morning of our lives;
If even a tear that eases thus my sorrow
Is dearer to thee than my father’s favour—
_Marquis of Posa._ Oh, dearer than the world!
_Karlos._ So low, so low
Have I now fallen, have become so needy,
That of our early childish years together
I must remind thee—must indeed entreat
Thy payment of those long-forgotten debts
Which thou, while yet in sailor garb, contractedst;
When thou and I, two boys of venturous habit,
Grew up, and side by side, in brotherhood.
No grief oppressed me then—save that thy spirit
Seemed so eclipsing mine—until at length
I boldly dared to _love_ thee without limit,
Since to be _like_ thee was beyond my dreams.
Then I began, with myriad tenderness
And brother-love most loyal, to torment thee;
And thou, proud heart, returned it all so coldly.
Oft would I stand there—and thou saw’st it not!
And hot and heavy tear-drops from my eyes
Hung, when perchance, thou, Roderick, hastening past me,
Would’st throw thy arms about some lesser playmate.
“Why only these?” I cried, and wept aloud
“Am I not also worthy of thy heart?”
But thou—
So cold and serious before me kneeling,
“Homage” thou said’st, “to the King’s son is due.”
_Marquis_. A truce, O Prince, to all these tales of childhood,
They make my cheeks red even now with shame!
_Karlos_. And this from thee indeed I did not merit.
Contemn thou could’st, and even rend my heart,
But ne’er estrange. Three times thou did’st repulse
The young Prince from thee; thrice again he came
As suppliant to thee—to entreat thy love,
And urgently to press his love upon thee.
But that which Karlos could not, chance effected.
(The story is then related of how as a boy he took on himself the blame
for a misdemeanour of Roderick’s, and was severely punished by his royal
father)—
Under the pitiless strokes my blood flowed red;
I looked on thee and wept not. But the King
Was angered by my boyish heroism,
And for twelve terrible hours emprisoned me
In a dark dungeon, to repent thereof.
So proud and fierce was my determination
By Roderick to be beloved. Thou cam’st,
And loudly weeping at my feet did’st fall,
“Yes, yes,” did’st cry, “my pride is overcome,
One day, when thou art king, I will repay thee.”
_Marquis_ (_giving his hand_.)
I will so, Karl. My boyish affidavit
As man I now renew; I will repay;
My hour will also strike, perchance.
[Sidenote: _The devotion of Roderick_]
(The hour comes, when Roderick takes on himself the blame for an intrigue
of Don Karlos with the Queen and William of Orange. He writes a letter to
the latter, and allows it purposely to fall into the King’s hands. He is
assassinated by order of the King; and the following speech over his body
(Act V., Scene iv.) is made to the King by Don Karlos, who thenceforth
abjures all love except for the memory of his friend.)
_Karlos_ (to the King.)
The dead man was my friend. And would you know
Wherefore he died? He perished for my sake.
Yes, Sire, for we were brothers! brothers by
A nobler chain than Nature ever forges.
Love was his glorious life-career. And love
For me, his great, his glorious death. Mine was he.
What time his lowly bearing puffed you up,
What time his gay persuasive eloquence
Made easy sport of your proud giant-spirit.
You thought to dominate him quite—and were
The obedient creature of his deeper plans.
That I am prisoner, is the schemed result
Of his great friendship. To achieve my safety
He wrote that letter to the Prince of Orange—
O God! the first, last falsehood of his life.
To rescue me he went to meet the Fate
Which he has suffered. With your gracious favours
You loaded him. He died for me. On him
You pressed the favours of your heart and friendship.
Your sceptre was the plaything of his hands;
He threw it from him, and for me he died.
[Sidenote: _Fritz of Prussia and Von Katte_]
There is little, I believe, in the historical facts relating to Don
Karlos to justify this tale of friendship; but there seems great
probability that the incidents were transferred by Schiller from the
history of Frederick the Great, of Prussia, when a youth at his father’s
court. The devotion that existed between the young Frederick and Lieut.
Von Katte, the anger and severities of the royal parent, the supposed
conspiracy, the emprisonment of Frederick, and the execution of Von
Katte, are all reproduced in Schiller’s play.
[Sidenote: _Death of Von Katte_]
Von Katte was a young man of good family and strange but charming
personality, who, as soon as he came to Court, being three or four years
older than Frederick, exercised a strong attraction upon the latter. The
two were always together, and finally, enraged by the harshness of the
royal father, they plotted flight to England. They were arrested, and
Katte, accused of treason to the throne, was condemned to death. That
this sentence was pronounced, not so much for political reasons, as in
order to do despite to the affection between him and the Crown Prince,
is strongly suggested by the circumstances. Von Katte was sent from a
distance in order to be executed at Cüstrin, in the fortress where the
Prince was confined, and with instructions that the latter should witness
his execution. Carlyle, in his life of Frederick II., says:—
“Katte wore, by order, a brown dress exactly like the Prince’s;
the Prince is already brought down into a lower room to see
Katte as he passes, (to see Katte die has been the royal order,
but they smuggled that into abeyance) and Katte knows he shall
see him.” [Besserer, the chaplain of the Garrison, quoted by
Carlyle, describing the scene as they approached the Castle,
says:—‘Here, after long wistful looking about, he did get sight
of his beloved Jonathan at a window in the Castle, from whom, he,
with politest and most tender expression, speaking in French,
took leave, with no little emotion of sorrow.] “_Pardonnez moi,
mon cher Katte_” cried Friedrich. “_La mort est douce pour un si
aimable Prince_,” said Katte, and fared on; round some angle of
the Fortress it appears; not in sight of Friedrich, who sank in a
faint, and had seen his last glimpse of Katte in this world.’
_Life of Frederick II._, vol. 2, p. 489.
[Sidenote: _Frederick the Great_]
Frederick’s grief and despair were extreme for a time. Then his royal
father found him a wife, in the Princess Elizabeth of Brunswick, whom he
obediently married, but in whom he showed little interest—their meetings
growing rarer and rarer till at last they became merely formal. Later,
and after his accession, he spent most of his leisure time when away
from the cares of war and political re-organisation, at his retreat at
Sans-Souci, afar from feminine society (a fact which provoked Voltaire’s
sarcasms), and in the society of his philosophic and military friends, to
many of whom he was much attached. Von Kupffer has unearthed from his
poems printed at Sans-Souci in 1750 the following, addressed to Count Von
Kaiserlinck, a favorite companion, on whom he bestowed the by-name of
Cesarion:—
“Cesarion, let us keep unspoiled
Our faith, and be true friends,
And pair our lives like noble Greeks,
And to like noble ends!
That friend from friend may never hide
A fault through weakness or thro’ pride,
Or sentiment that cloys.
Thus gold in fire the brighter glows,
And far more rare and precious grows,
Refined from all alloys.”
[Sidenote: _Frederick to Cesarion_]
There is also in the same collection a long and beautiful ode “To the
shades of Cesarion,” of which the following are a few lines:—
“O God! how hard the word of Fate!
Cesarion dead! His happy days
Death to the grave has consecrate.
His charm I mourn and gentle grace.
He’s dead—my tender, faithful mate!
A thousand daggers pierce my heart;
It trembles, torn with grief and pain.
He’s gone! the dawn comes not again!
Thy grave’s the goal of my heart’s strife;
Holy shall thy remembrance be;
To thee I poured out love in life;
And love in death I vow to thee.”
[Sidenote: _Herder on Greek Friendship_]
Johann Gottfried von Herder (1744-1803) as theologian, philosopher,
friend of Goethe, Court preacher at Weimar, and author of _Ideas on the
Philosophy of History_ has had a great and enduring reputation. The
following extract is from the just-mentioned book:—
“Never has a branch born finer fruit than that little branch
of Olive, Ivy, and Pine, which was the victor’s crown among
the Greeks. It gave to the young men good looks, good health,
and good spirits; it made their limbs nimble, graceful and
well-formed; in their souls it lighted the first sparks of the
desire for good name, the love of fame even, and stamped on
them the inviolable temper of men who live for their city and
their country. Finally, what was most precious, it laid the
foundation in their characters of that predilection for male
society and friendship which so markedly distinguishes the
Greeks. In Greece, woman was not the one prize of life for which
the young man fought and strove; the loveliest Helen could only
mould the spirit of one Paris, even though her beauty might be
the coveted object of all manly valour. The feminine sex, despite
the splendid examples of every virtue that it exhibited in
Greece, as elsewhere, remained there only a secondary object of
the manly life. The thoughts of aspiring youths reached towards
something higher. The bond of friendship which they knitted among
themselves or with grown men, compelled them into a school which
Aspasia herself could hardly have introduced them to; so that in
many of the states of Greece manly love became surrounded and
accompanied by those intelligent and educational influences, that
permanence of character and devotion, whose sentiment and meaning
we read of in Plato almost as if in a romance from some far
planet.”
[Sidenote: _Von Kupffer on Ethics and Politics_]
Elisar von Kupffer, in the introduction to his Anthology, from which I
have already quoted a few extracts, speaks at some length on the great
ethical and political significance of a loving comradeship. He says:—
“In open linkage and attachment to each other ought youth to
rejoice in youth. In attachment to another, one loses the habit
of thinking only of self. In the love and tender care and
instruction that the youth receives from his lover he learns from
boyhood up to recognise the good of self-sacrifice and devotion;
and in the love which he shows, whether in the smaller or the
greater offerings of an intimate friendship, he accustoms himself
to self-sacrifice for another. In this way the young man is early
nurtured into a member of the Community—to a useful member and
not one who has self and only self in mind. And how much closer
thus does unit grow to unit, till indeed the whole comes to feel
itself a whole!...
“The close relationship between two men has this further
result—that folk instinctively and not without reason judge
of one from the other; so that should the one be worthy and
honorable, he naturally will be anxious that the other should
not bring a slur upon him. Thus there arises a bond of moral
responsibility with regard to character. And what can be of more
advantage to the community than that the individual members
should feel responsible for each other? Surely it is just that
which constitutes national sentiment, and the strength of a
people, namely, that it should form a complete whole in itself,
where each unit feels locked and linked with the others. Such
unions may be of the greatest social value, as in the case of
the family. And it is especially in the hour of danger that the
effect of this unity of feeling shows itself; for where one man
stands or falls with another, where glad self-sacrifice, learnt
in boyhood, becomes so to speak, a warm-hearted instinct, there
is developed a power of incalculable import, a power that folly
alone can hold cheap. Indeed, the unconquerable force of these
unions has already been practically shown, as in the Sacred
Band of the Thebans who fought to its bitter end the battle of
Leuctra; and, psychologically speaking, the explanation is most
natural; for where one person feels himself united, body and
soul to another, is it not natural that he should put forth all
his powers in order to help the other, in order to manifest his
love for him in every way? If any one cannot or will not perceive
this we may indeed well doubt either the intelligence of his head
or the morality of his heart.”
[Sidenote: _Friedrich Rückert to his Friend_]
Friedrich Rückert (1788-1866), Professor of Oriental Literature in
Berlin, wrote verses in memory of his friend Joseph Kopp:—
“How shall I know myself without thee,
Who knew myself as part of thee?
I only know one half is vanished,
And half alone is left, of me.
Never again my proper mind
I’ll know; for thee I’ll never find.
Never again, out there in space,
I’ll find thee; but here, deep within.
I see, tho’ not in dreams, thy face;
My waking eyes thy presence win,
And all my thought and poesy
Are but my offering to thee.
...
My Jonathan, now hast thou fled,
And I to weep thy loss remain;
If David’s harp might grace my hands
O might it help to ease my pain!
My friend, my Joseph, true of faith,
In life so loved—so loved in death.”
[Sidenote: _Rough Weather Friends_]
And the following are by Joseph Kitir, an Austrian poet:—
“Not where breathing roses bless
The night, or summer airs caress;
Not in Nature’s sacred grove;
No, but at a tap-room table,
Sitting in the window-gable
Did we plight our troth of love.
No fair lime tree’s roofing shade
By the spring wind gently swayed
Formed for us a bower of bliss;
No, stormbound, but love-intent,
There against the damp wall bent
We two bartered kiss for kiss.
Therefore shalt thou, Love so rare
(Child of storms and wintry air),
Not like Spring’s sweet fragrance fade.
Even in sorrow thou shalt flourish,
Frost shall not make thee afraid,
And in storms thou shalt not perish.”
[Sidenote: _Ludwig II. to Richard Wagner_]
On p. 154, 155 above are given some letters of Richard Wagner relative to
Ludwig II.’s deep attachment to him. Below are some of the actual letters
of Ludwig to Wagner. (See Prof. C. Beyer’s book, _Ludwig II., König von
Bayern_.)
“Dear Friend, O I see clearly that your sufferings are
deep-rooted! You tell me, beloved friend, that you have looked
deep into the hearts of men, and seen there the villainy and
corruption that dwells within. Yes, I believe you, and I can
well understand that moments come to you of disgust with the
human race; yet always will we remember (will we not, beloved?)
that there are yet many noble and good people, for whom it is a
real pleasure to live and work. And yet you say you are no use
for this world!—I pray you, do not despair, your true friend
conjures you; have Courage: ‘Love helps us to bear and suffer all
things, love brings at last the victor’s crown!’ Love recognises,
even in the most corrupt, the germ of good; she alone overcomes
all!—Live on, darling of my soul. I recall your own words to you.
To learn to forget is a noble work!—Let us be careful to hide
the faults of others; it was for all men indeed that the Saviour
died and suffered. And now, what a pity that ‘Tristan’ can not be
presented to-day; will it perhaps to-morrow? Is there any chance?
Unto death your faithful friend,
LUDWIG.”
_15th May, 1865._
“_Purschling_, _4th Aug., 1865_.
“My one, my much-loved Friend,—You express to me your sorrow
that, as it seems to you, each one of our last meetings has only
brought pain and anxiety to me.—Must I then remind my loved
one of Brynhilda’s words?—Not only in gladness and enjoyment,
but in suffering also Love makes man blest.... When does my
friend think of coming to the ‘Hill-Top,’ to the woodland’s
aromatic breezes?—Should a stay in that particular spot not
altogether suit, why, I beg my dear one to choose any of my other
mountain-cabins for his residence.—What is mine is his! Perhaps
we may meet on the way between the Wood and the World, as my
friend expressed it!... To thee I am wholly devoted; for thee,
for thee only to live!
Unto death your own, your faithful
LUDWIG.”
“_Hohenschwangau_, _2nd Nov., 1865_.
“My one Friend, my ardently beloved! This afternoon, at 3.30,
I returned from a glorious tour in Switzerland! How this land
delighted me!—There I found your dear letter; deepest warmest
thanks for the same. With new and burning enthusiasm has it
filled me; I see that the beloved marches boldly and confidently
forward, towards our great and eternal goal.
“All hindrances I will victoriously like a hero overcome. I am
entirely at thy disposal; let me now dutifully prove it.—Yes, we
must meet and speak together. I will banish all evil clouds; Love
has strength for all. You are the star that shines upon my life,
and the sight of you ever wonderfully strengthens me.—Ardently
I long for you, O my presiding Saint, to whom I pray! I should
be immensely pleased to see my friend here in about a week; oh,
we have plenty to say! If only I could quite banish from me the
curse of which you speak, and send it back to the deeps of night
from whence it sprang!—How I love, how I love you, my one, my
highest good!...
“My enthusiasm and love for you are boundless. Once more I swear
you faith till death!
Ever, ever your devoted
LUDWIG.”
[Sidenote: _Byron’s Calmar and Orla_]
Byron’s “Death of Calmar and Orla: an Imitation of Ossian,” is, like his
“Nisus and Euryalus” (see above, p. 163), a story of two hero-friends
who, refusing to be separated, die together in battle:—
“In Morven dwelt the chief; a beam of war to Fingal. His steps
in the field were marked in blood. Lochlin’s sons had fled
before his angry spear; but mild was the eye of Calmar; soft was
the flow of his yellow locks: they streamed like the meteor of
the night. No maid was the sigh of his soul: his thoughts were
given to friendship—to dark-haired Orla, destroyer of heroes!
Equal were their swords in battle; but fierce was the pride of
Orla—gentle alone to Calmar. Together they dwelt in the cave of
Oithona.” [Orla is sent by the King on a mission of danger amid
the hosts of the enemy. Calmar insists on accompanying him, in
spite of all entreaties to the contrary. They are discovered. A
fight ensues, and they are slain.] “Morn glimmers on the hills:
no living foe is seen; but the sleepers are many; grim they lie
on Erin. The breeze of ocean lifts their locks; yet they do not
awake. The hawks scream above their prey.
“Whose yellow locks wave o’er the breast of a chief? Bright as
the gold of the stranger they mingle with the dark hair of his
friend. ’Tis Calmar: he lies on the bosom of Orla. Theirs is one
stream of blood. Fierce is the look of gloomy Orla. He breathes
not, but his eye is still aflame. It glares in death unclosed.
His hand is grasped in Calmar’s; but Calmar lives! He lives,
though low. ‘Rise,’ said the King, ‘Rise, son of Mora: ’tis mine
to heal the wounds of heroes. Calmar may yet bound on the hills
of Morven.’
“‘Never more shall Calmar chase the deer of Morven with Orla,’
said the hero. ‘What were the chase to me alone? Who should share
the spoils of battle with Calmar? Orla is at rest. Rough was
thy soul, Orla! Yet soft to me as the dew of morn. It glared on
others in lightning: to me a silver beam of night. Bear my sword
to blue-eyed Mora; let it hang in my empty hall. It is not pure
from blood: but it could not save Orla. Lay me with my friend.
Raise the song when I am dead.’” [So they are laid by the stream
of Lubar, and four gray stones mark the dwelling of Orla and
Calmar.]
[Sidenote: _Hæckel’s Visit to Ceylon_]
Ernst Hæckel, in his “Visit to Ceylon” describes the devotion entertained
for him by his Rodiya serving-boy at Belligam, near Galle. The keeper of
the rest-house at Belligam was an old and philosophically-minded man,
whom Hæckel, from his likeness to a well known head, could not help
calling by the name of Socrates. And he continues:—
[Sidenote: _His Rodiya Boy_]
“It really seemed as though I should be pursued by the familiar
aspects of classical antiquity from the first moment of my
arrival at my idyllic home. For, as Socrates led me up the steps
of the open central hall of the rest-house, I saw before me, with
uplifted arms in an attitude of prayer, a beautiful naked brown
figure, which could be nothing else than the famous statue of the
‘Youth adoring.’ How surprised I was when the graceful bronze
statue suddenly came to life, and dropping his arms fell on his
knees, and, after raising his black eyes imploringly to mine,
bowed his handsome face so low at my feet that his long black
hair fell on the floor! Socrates informed me that this boy was a
Pariah, a member of the lowest caste, the Rodiyas, who had lost
his parents at an early age, so he had taken pity on him. He was
told off to my exclusive service, had nothing to do the livelong
day but obey my wishes, and was a good boy, sure to do his duty
punctually. In answer to the question what I was to call my new
body-servant, the old man informed me that his name was Gamameda.
Of course I immediately thought of Ganymede, for the favorite of
Jove himself could not have been more finely made, or have had
limbs more beautifully proportioned and moulded. As Gamameda also
displayed a peculiar talent as butler, and never allowed anyone
else to open me a cocoa-nut or offer me a glass of palm wine, it
was no more than right that I should dub him Ganymede.
“Among the many beautiful figures which move in the foreground
of my memories of the paradise of Ceylon, Ganymede remains one
of my dearest favorites. Not only did he fulfil his duties with
the greatest attention and conscientiousness, but he developed a
personal attachment and devotion to me which touched me deeply.
The poor boy, as a miserable outcast of the Rodiya caste, had
been from his birth the object of the deepest contempt of his
fellow-men, and subjected to every sort of brutality and
ill-treatment. With the single exception of old Socrates, who
was not too gentle with him either, no one perhaps had ever
cared for him in any way. He was evidently as much surprised as
delighted to find me willing to be kind to him from the first....
I owe many beautiful and valuable contributions to my museum
to Ganymede’s unfailing zeal and dexterity. With the keen eye,
the neat hand, and the supple agility of the Cinghalese youth,
he could catch a fluttering moth or a gliding fish with equal
promptitude; and his nimbleness was really amazing, when, out
hunting, he climbed the tall trees like a cat, or scrambled
through the densest jungle to recover the prize I had killed.”
_My Visit to Ceylon_, _by Ernst Hæckel_, p. 200. (Kegan Paul,
Trench & Co., 1883).
Hæckel stayed some weeks in and around Belligam; and continues, (p. 272):—
“On my return to Belligam I had to face one of the hardest duties
of my whole stay in Ceylon: to tear myself away from this lovely
spot of earth, where I had spent six of the happiest and most
interesting weeks in my life.... But hardest of all was the
parting from my faithful Ganymede; the poor lad wept bitterly,
and implored me to take him with me to Europe. In vain had I
assured him that it was impossible, and told him of our chill
climate and dull skies. He clung to my knees and declared that
he would follow me unhesitatingly wherever I would take him. I
was at last almost obliged to use force to free myself from his
embrace. I got into the carriage which was waiting, and as I
waved a last farewell to my good brown friends, I almost felt as
if I had been expelled from Paradise.”
[Sidenote: _Edward Fitzgerald’s friendships_]
Edward Fitzgerald, the interpreter and translator of _Omar Khayyam_, was
a man of the deepest feeling and sensibility, with a special gift for
friendship. Men like Tennyson and Thackeray declared that they loved him
best of all their friends. He himself said in one of his letters “My
friendships are more like loves.” A. C. Benson, his biographer, writes of
him:—
“He was always taking fancies, and once under the spell he could
see no faults in his friend. His friendship for Browne arose out
of one of these romantic impulses. So too his affection for Posh,
the boatman; for Cowell, and for Alfred Smith, the farmer of
Farlingay and Boulge, who had been his protégé as a boy. He seems
to have been one of those whose best friendships are reserved for
men; for though he had beloved women friends like Mrs. Cowell
and Mrs. Kemble, yet these are the exceptions rather than the
rule. The truth is, there was a strong admixture of the feminine
in Fitzgerald’s character.” _Fitzgerald, English Men of Letters
Series_, ch. viii.
[Sidenote: _Fitzgerald and Posh_]
The friendship with Posh, the fisherman, at Lowestoft and at Woodbridge,
lasted over many years. Fitzgerald had a herring-lugger built for him,
which he called the _Meum and Tuum_, and in which they had many a sail
together. Benson, speaking of their first meeting, says:—
“In the same year [1864] came another great friendship. He made
the acquaintance of a stalwart sailor named Joseph Fletcher,
commonly called Posh. It was at Lowestoft that he was found,
where Fitzgerald used, as he wrote in 1850, ‘to wander about
the shore at night longing for some fellow to accost me who
might give some promise of filling up a very vacant place in my
heart.’ Posh had seen the melancholy figure wandering about,
and years after, when Fitz used to ask him why he had not been
merciful enough to speak to him, Posh would reply that he had
not thought it becoming. Posh was, in Fitzgerald’s own words, ‘a
man of the finest Saxon type, with a complexion, _vif, mâle et
flamboyant_, blue eyes, a nose less than Roman, more than Greek,
and strictly auburn hair that woman might sigh to possess.’
He was too, according to Fitz, ‘a man of simplicity of soul,
justice of thought, tenderness of nature, a gentleman of Nature’s
grandest type.’ Fitz became deeply devoted to this big-handed,
soft-hearted, grave fellow, then 24 years of age.”
_Ibid_, ch. iii.
FOOTNOTES
[1] This curious oracle seems purposely to confuse the singular and
plural.
[2] Digression in praise of the political administration of the
Pisistratidæ.
[3] “For the two men lived together, and had their possessions in
common.” _Iamblichus, de Vita Pythagoræ_ bk. i. ch. 33.
[4] “For now we see by means of a mirror darkly (lit.
enigmatically); but then face to face; now I know in part; but then
shall I know even as also I am known.” _1 Cor._ xiii. 12.
[5] Seen within the flower we call Larkspur.
[6] The Sun.
[7] Benecke, _Woman in Greek Poetry_, traces a germ of this romance
even in Greek days.
[8] “De la Servitude Volontaire”.
[9] As Whitman in this connection (like Tennyson in connection with
_In Memoriam_) is sure to be accused of morbidity, it may be worth
while to insert the following note from _In re Walt Whitman_, p.
115, “Dr. Drinkard in 1870, when Whitman broke down from rupture of
a small blood-vessel in the brain, wrote to a Philadelphia doctor
detailing Whitman’s case, and stating that he was a man ‘with the
most natural habits, bases, and organisation he had ever seen.’”
Index
INDEX
_Achilles and Patroclus_, 45, 68 _et seq._, 74, 85
_Æschylus, on Achilles_, 72, 73
_African Customs_, 4, 5, 6, 14
_Agathon, epigram to, by Plato_, 79
_Agesilaus and Lysander_, 17
_Albania, Customs_, 20, 21
_Alexander the Great and Hephæstion_, 188
_Amis and Amile, story of_, 106
_Anacreon, epigram_, 77;
_to Bathyllus_, 77
_Anne, Princess, and Lady Churchill_, 146
_Anselm’s letters to brother Monks_, 104;
_to Lanfranc_, 104;
_to Gondulph_, 105
_Apollo and Hyacinth_, 88
_Arabia, customs_, 12, 109, 119
_Archidamus and Cleonymus_, 17
_Aristophanes, speech of_, 51 _et seq._
_Aristotle quoted_, 185
_Aster, epigrams to, by Plato_, 78
_Athenæus quoted_, 25, 28, 74, 147
_Augustine, Saint, his friend_, 99 _et seq._
_Bacon, Francis, quoted_, 137
_Bagdad Dervish, story of_, 116;
_another story_, 177
_Balonda, ceremonies among_, 4
_Banyai, customs among the_, 14
_Barnfield, Richard, “The Affectionate Shepheard,”_ 133;
_Sonnets_, 134 _et seq._
_Baylis, J. W., quoted_, 36, 90
_Beaconsfield, Lord, on boy-friendships_, 168
_Beaumont and Fletcher_, 191 _et seq._
_Bengali coolies_, 7
_Benecke, E. F. M., quoted_, 68, 97
_Bernard, Saint_, 103
_Bion quoted_, 86
_Blood, mutual tasting of_, 5
_Browne, Sir Thomas, “Religio Medici” quoted_, 144
_Browning, Robert, poem by_, 174
_Bruno, Giordano, quoted_, 130
_Buckingham, J. S., Travels in Assyria, &c._, 115 _et seq._
_Butler, Lady E., and Miss Ponsonby_, 161, 162
_Byron, letter to Miss Pigot_, 160;
_friendship with Eddleston_, 161;
_paraphrase of story of Nisus and Euryalus_, 163;
_comments by T. Moore_, 164;
_story of Calmar and Orla_, 217
_Callias and Autolycus_, 59
_Calmar and Orla_, 217
_Carlyle, T., on Fritz of Prussia and von Katte_, 205
_Catullus_, 89;
_to Quintius_, 92;
_to Juventius_, 92;
_to Licinius_, 93
_Chæronæa, battle of_, 22, 23, 68
_Chariton and Melanippus_, 15;
_story of_, 29
_Chivalry, customs of, in Arabia and Africa_, 11, 12, 14
_Chivalry, mediæval, compared with Greek friendship_, 15, 45, 47
_Christian influences_, 97 _et seq._
_Christian and Greek Ideals compared_, 98
_Cleomachus, story of_, 27
_Comrade-attachment, institution in the early world_, 1 _et seq._,
41, 46, 177, &c.;
_essential part of Greek civilisation_, 41, 42 _et seq._, 208, 209;
_romance of_, 42, 46, 47, 52, 53, 56-60, 68 _et seq._;
_heroic quality_, 11, 12, 13, 16, 21-25, 28, 31-37, 50, 51, &c.;
_Educational value_, 16-21, 46, 49, 74, 210, 211;
_relation to chivalry_, 11-16, 45, 47, 97;
_relation to Politics_, 42, 46, 49, 50, 99, 147, 211, 212;
_relation to Philosophy_, 30, 47-63;
_relation to the Divine Love_, 48, 54-59, 63, 130, 132, 133, 145
_Cratinus and Aristodemus_, 15
_Crete, customs_, 17
_Damon and Pythias_, 8;
_story of_, 36
_Dante quoted_, 69
_David and Jonathan_, 6, 7, 15, 108
_Democratic Vistas quoted_, 178
_Dickinson, G. L., quoted_, 45, 75
_Diocles, tomb honoured by lovers_, 20, 82
_Diocles and Philolaus_, 15, 19
_Diomedes and Sthenelus_, 45
_Diotima the prophetess_, 53, 129
_Don Karlos and the Marquis of Posa_, 199 _et seq._
_Dorian customs_, 16 _et seq._
_Eastern countries and poets_, 109
_Eighteenth Century, influence of_, 147
_Emerson, R. W., essay on friendship_, 175
_Epaminondas_, 28, 29;
_and Pelopidas_, 185
_Epigrams, Greek Anthology_, 80;
_of Plato_, 78, 79
_Epitaph, Greek Anthology_, 80
_Exchange of gifts_, 5, 6, 7, 18, 36;
_of names_, 5, 6;
_of flowers_, 7
_Fitzgerald, Edward, friendship for Tennyson, Thackeray and others_,
222;
_devotion to Fletcher, or ‘Posh,’ the sailor_, 223, 224
_Fletcher, John, lament for Francis Beaumont_, 194
_Flower Friends_, 7
_Fraunce, Abraham, translation of Virgil_, 91
_Frederick the Great, his friendship with von Katte_, 204 _et seq._;
_poems by_, 207
_Frey, Ludwig, quoted_, 45, 149
_Gamameda or Ganymede_, 220
_Ganymede_, 57, 82
_Germans, primitive_, 11, 13
_Germany, modern_, 147 _et seq._
_Goethe, on Winckelmann and Greek friendships_, 149;
_poem by_, 150
_Greek friendship compared with mediæval chivalry_, 15, 45, 47
_Hæckel, Ernst, and his Rodiya boy in Ceylon_, 219 _et seq._
_Hafiz quoted_, 113, 190
_Hallam, Arthur, and Tennyson_, 169 _et seq._
_Harmodius and Aristogeiton_, 15, 28;
_story of_, 32
_Hazlitt, Wm., Life of Montaigne quoted_, 124
_Hephæstion, favorite of Alexander the Great_, 188
_Hercules and Ioläus_, 23, 25, 44
_Herder on Greek friendship_, 208, 209
_Hermaphrodites_, 52
_Homer’s Iliad, motive of_, 68-72
_Hyacinth, favorite of Apollo_, 87;
_story of_, 88
_Idomeneus and Meriones_, 45
_“In Memoriam,” Tennyson’s, reviled by the “Times,”_ 169;
_quoted_, 170 _et seq._
_Ioläus_, 23, 25, 44
_Jalal-ud-din Rumi_, 109, 110, 111
_Jealousy in friendship_, 9
_Kasendi, an African ceremony_, 5
_Khalifa at Khartoum_, 12
_Kitir, Joseph, verses by_, 213
_Lacedæmonians, customs among_, 25
_Ladies, the, of Llangollen_, 161, 162
_“Leaves of Grass” quoted_, 179-181
_Leigh Hunt on school-friendships_, 166, 167
_Lover answerable for his friend_, 18;
_disgraceful for a youth not to have a lover_, _ibid_
_Lovers invincible in battle_, 11, 12, 13, 23, 24, 28
_Lucian quoted_, 35
_Ludwig of Bavaria and R. Wagner_, 153 _et seq._;
_letters to Wagner_, 214 _et seq._
_Macaulay’s History of England quoted_, 145, 146
_Maid’s Tragedy quoted_, 195
_Manganjas, ceremonies among_, 5
_Mania, divine_, 54
_Marquesas Islands_, 9
_Martial’s epigrams quoted_, 94
_Maximus Tyrius quoted_, 129
_“May and Death,” poem by Browning_, 174
_Melantius and Amintor_, 195
_Meleager, verses by_, 79
_Melville, Herman, quoted_, 8 _et seq._
_Michel Angelo, Sonnets_, 129;
_quoted_, 131 _et seq._
_Military Comradeship_, 11 _et seq._
_Monastic life, friendship in_, 97, 103 _et seq._
_Montaigne and Stephen de la Boëtie_, 123 _et seq._;
_on marriage_, 125
_Montalembert quoted_, 103 _et seq._
_Moore, T., on Byron’s friendships_, 164
_Moschus, lament for Bion_, 86
_Mulamirin, or bodyguard of Khalifa_, 13
_Müller, History and Antiquities of the Doric Race_, 16 _et seq._
_Niobe, the sons of_, 26, 27
_Orestes and Pylades_, 15, 44;
_story of_, 35
_Parmenides and Zeno_, 30
_Patroclus and Achilles_, 45, 68, 74, 85
_Penn, William, quoted_, 145
_Persia, customs_, 109, 119
_Persian Poetry_, 110 _et seq._, 189, 190
_Phædo, story of_, 31
_Phædrus of Plato_, 47, 49, 55
_Pheidias and Pantarkes_, 30
_Philip of Macedon and the Theban Band_, 23
_Pindar to Theoxenos_, 78;
_see also_ 153
_Platen, Count August von_, 151;
_sonnets to his friend Karl Theodor German_, 151, 152;
_sonnet on death of Pindar_, 153
_Plato quoted_, 16, 48 _et seq._, 72, 73;
_epigrams_, 78
_Plutarch quoted_, 22, 26, 27, 61 _et seq._;
_referred to_, 123
_Polemon and Krates_, 187
_Polynesian Apollo_, 9
_Polynesian customs_, 8 _et seq._
_‘Posh’ and Edward Fitzgerald_, 223, 224
_Potter, Archbishop, quoted_, 147
_Raffalovich quoted_, 151
_Reminiscence, true love a_, 55-59
_Renaissance, influence of_, 99, 123
_Rückert, verses to his friend, Joseph Kopp_, 21
_Saadi quoted_, 113, 189, 190
_Sacred Band, see Theban Band_
_Sacredness of friendship in the early world_, 10, 37, 45
_Sappho_, 75;
_to Lesbia_, 76
_Schiller quoted_, 198 _et seq._
_School-friendships_, 165 _et seq._
_Sentiment of Comradeship, influenced by Christianity_, 97 _et seq._;
_by the Renaissance_, 99, 123;
_its place in the monastic life_, 97, 103 _et seq._;
_in modern Democracy_, 178, 211
_Shakespeare_, 128, 138, 152;
_sonnets quoted_, 139 _et seq._;
_Merchant of Venice_, 142;
_Henry V._, 143
_Shelley, Adonais_, 86;
_essay on friendship_, 165
_Sidney, Philip, friendship with Fulke Greville_, 127;
_with Hubert Languet_, 127, 128
_Sininyane and Moshoshoma_, 5, 6
_Socrates, his views_, 47;
_quoted_, 53 _et seq._, 58, 59, 75
_Socrates and Phædo_, 31
_Sophocles, his tragedy of Niobe_, 74
_Sparta, customs_, 16
_Suleyman the Magnificent and Ibrahim_, 114
_Symonds, J. A., quoted_, 15, 20, 31, 47, 68, 79
_Symposium of Plato_, 48 _et seq._;
_speech of Phædrus_, 49;
_of Pausanias_, 51;
_of Aristophanes_, 52;
_of Socrates_, 53, 54;
_also_ 72
_Symposium of Xenophon_, 59-61
_Tacitus, Germania_, 11
_Tahiti, customs in_, 8
_Tennyson, Alfred, and his friend Hallam_, 169;
_“In Memoriam” quoted_, 170 _et seq._
_Theban Band, account of_, 21 _et seq._;
_also_ 28, 68, 211
_Theocritus, Idyll xii._, 80 _et seq._;
_Idyll xxix._, 83
_Theognis and Kurnus_, 74, 75
_Theseus and Pirithöus_, 15, 44, 85
_Thirlwall, Bishop, quoted_, 44
_Thoreau, H. D., quoted_, 175-6
_Thucydides quoted_, 32
_Ulrichs, K. H._, 157;
_verses quoted_, 159
_Valerius Maximus quoted_, 37
_Vauvenargues and De Seytres_, 196, 197
_Virgil, 2nd Eclogue_, 90;
_imitated_, 133
_Vision, the divine_, 55, 56, 58
_Von Katte, his execution_, 205
_Von Kupffer, Anthology quoted_, 189, 190, 210, 211
_Wagner, Richard, friendship with Ludwig II._, 153;
_letters_, 154, 155;
_on Greek comradeship_, 156
_Whitman, Walt, his “love of comrades,”_ 177;
_Democratic Vistas quoted_, 178;
_Leaves of Grass quoted_, 179-181
_William of Orange and Bentinck_, 145
_Winckelmann_, 148;
_his letters_, 148;
_Goethe on_, 149
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