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 untrue,
that it should have any character at all, of the divine nature; except
it proceed, not out of a pleasure 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 Candian, 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
solitude is, and how far it extendeth. For a crowd is not company; and
faces are but a gallery of pictures; 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, except (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 languages give
unto such persons the name of favorites, or privadoes; as if it were
matter of grace, or conversation. But the Roman name attaineth the true
use and cause thereof, naming them participes 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
received 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
overmatch. 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 presages, 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 marriage 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 Plautianus, 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 friendship.
It is not to be forgotten, what Comineus observeth 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 cannibals of
their own hearts. But one thing is most admirable (wherewith I
will conclude this first fruit of friendship), which is, that this
communicating 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 impression: 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 infused, and drenched, in his affections and customs. So as there
is as much difference between the counsel, 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
manners, 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,
sometime too piercing and corrosive. Reading good books of morality,
is a little flat and dead. Observing 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 presently
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 himself 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, perhaps, 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 unacquainted 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 beware, 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
pomegranate, 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
himself; for that a friend is far more than himself. Men have
their time, and die many times, in desire 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 graceful, 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 enumerate 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.