Produced by Al Haines
FRIENDSHIP
_By_ HUGH BLACK
_With an Introductory Note by_
W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, D.D.
Chicago--New York--Toronto
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
London--Edinburgh
Copyright, 1898, 1903, by
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
To MY FRIEND
HECTOR MUNRO FERGUSON
AND TO MANY OTHER FRIENDS WHO HAVE MADE LIFE RICH
_Equidem, ex omnibus rebus, quas mihi aut Fortuna aut Natura tribuit,
nihil habeo quod cum amicitia Scipionis possum, comparare._
CICERO.
_Intreat me not to leave thee,
And to return from following after thee:
For whither thou guest, I will go;
And where thou lodgest, I will lodge;
Thy people shall be my people,
And thy God my God:
Where thou diest, will I die,
And there will I be buried:
The Lord do so to me, and more also,
If aught but death part thee and me._
BOOK OF RUTH.
APPRECIATION
BY SIR WM. ROBERTSON NICOLL, D.D.
Mr. Hugh Black's wise and charming little book on Friendship is full of
good things winningly expressed, and, though very simply written, is
the result of real thought and experience. Mr. Black's is the art that
conceals art. For young men, especially, this volume will be a golden
possession, and it can hardly fail to affect their after lives. Mr.
Black says well that the subject of friendship is less thought of among
us now than it was in the old world. Marriage has come to mean
infinitely more. Communion with God in Christ has become to multitudes
the primal fact of life. Nevertheless the need for friendship
remains.--"British Weekly."
_Friendship is to be valued for what there is in it, not for what can
be gotten out of it. When two people appreciate each other because
each has found the other convenient to have around, they are not
friends, they are simply acquaintances with a business understanding.
To seek friendship for its utility is as futile as to seek the end of a
rainbow for its bag of gold. A true friend is always useful in the
highest sense; but we should beware of thinking of our friends as
brother members of a mutual-benefit association, with its periodical
demands and threats of suspension for non-payment of dues._
TRUMBULL.
Contents
I
THE MIRACLE OF FRIENDSHIP
II
THE CULTURE OF FRIENDSHIP
III
THE FRUITS OF FRIENDSHIP
IV
THE CHOICE OF FRIENDSHIP
V
THE ECLIPSE OF FRIENDSHIP
VI
THE WRECK OF FRIENDSHIP
VII
THE RENEWING OF FRIENDSHIP
VIII
THE LIMITS OF FRIENDSHIP
IX
THE HIGHER FRIENDSHIP
The Miracle of Friendship
But, far away from these, another sort
Of lovers linkëd in true heart's consent;
Which lovëd not as these for like intent,
But on chaste virtue grounded their desire,
Far from all fraud or feignëd blandishment;
Which, in their spirits kindling zealous fire,
Brave thoughts and noble deeds did evermore aspire.
Such were great Hercules and Hylas dear,
True Jonathan and David trusty tried;
Stout Theseus and Pirithöus his fere;
Pylades and Orestes by his side;
Mild Titus and Gesippus without pride;
Damon and Pythias, whom death could not sever;
All these, and all that ever had been tied
In bands of friendship, there did live forever;
Whose lives although decay'd, yet loves decayëd never.
SPENSER, The Faerie Queene.
The Miracle of Friendship
The idea, so common in the ancient writers, is not all a poetic
conceit, that the soul of a man is only a fragment of a larger whole,
and goes out in search of other souls in which it will find its true
completion. We walk among worlds unrealized, until we have learned the
secret of love. We know this, and in our sincerest moments admit this,
even though we are seeking to fill up our lives with other ambitions
and other hopes.
It is more than a dream of youth that there may be here a satisfaction
of the heart, without which, and in comparison with which, all worldly
success is failure. In spite of the selfishness which seems to blight
all life, our hearts tell us that there is possible a nobler
relationship of disinterestedness and devotion. Friendship in its
accepted sense is not the highest of the different grades in that
relationship, but it has its place in the kingdom of love, and through
it we bring ourselves into training for a still larger love. The
natural man may be self-absorbed and self-centred, but in a truer sense
it is natural for him to give up self and link his life on to others.
Hence the joy with which he makes the great discovery, that he is
something to another and another is everything to him. It is the
higher-natural for which he has hitherto existed. It is a miracle, but
it happens.
The cynic may speak of the now obsolete sentiment of friendship, and he
can find much to justify his cynicism. Indeed, on the first blush, if
we look at the relative place the subject holds in ancient as compared
with modern literature, we might say that friendship is a sentiment
that is rapidly becoming obsolete. In Pagan writers friendship takes a
much larger place than it now receives. The subject bulks largely in
the works of Plato, Aristotle, Epictetus, Cicero. And among modern
writers it gets most importance in the writings of the more
Pagan-spirited, such as Montaigne. In all the ancient systems of
philosophy, friendship was treated as an integral part of the system.
To the Stoic it was a blessed occasion for the display of nobility and
the native virtues of the human mind. To the Epicurean it was the most
refined of the pleasures which made life worth living. In the
Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle makes it the culminating point, and out
of ten books gives two to the discussion of Friendship. He makes it
even the link of connection between his treatise on Ethics and his
companion treatise on Politics. It is to him both the perfection of
the individual life, and the bond that holds states together.
Friendship is not only a beautiful and noble thing for a man, but the
realization of it is also the ideal for the state; for if citizens be
friends, then justice, which is the great concern of all organized
societies, is more than secured. Friendship is thus made the flower of
Ethics, and the root of Politics.
Plato also makes friendship the ideal of the state, where all have
common interests and mutual confidence. And apart from its place of
prominence in systems of thought, perhaps a finer list of beautiful
sayings about friendship could be culled from ancient writers than from
modern. Classical mythology also is full of instances of great
friendship, which almost assumed the place of a religion itself.
It is not easy to explain why its part in Christian ethics is so small
in comparison. The change is due to an enlarging of the thought and
life of man. Modern ideals are wider and more impersonal, just as the
modern conception of the state is wider. The Christian ideal of love
even for enemies has swallowed up the narrower ideal of philosophic
friendship. Then possibly also the instinct finds satisfaction
elsewhere in the modern man. For example, marriage, in more cases now
than ever before, supplies the need of friendship. Men and women are
nearer in intellectual pursuits and in common tastes than they have
ever been, and can be in a truer sense companions. And the deepest
explanation of all is that the heart of man receives a religious
satisfaction impossible before. Spiritual communion makes a man less
dependent on human intercourse. When the heaven is as brass and makes
no sign, men are thrown back on themselves to eke out their small
stores of love.
At the same time friendship is not an obsolete sentiment. It is as
true now as in Aristotle's time that no one would care to live without
friends, though he had all other good things. It is still necessary to
our life in its largest sense. The danger of sneering at friendship is
that it may be discarded or neglected, not in the interests of a more
spiritual affection, but to minister to a debased cynical
self-indulgence. There is possible to-day, as ever, a generous
friendship which forgets self. The history of the heart-life of man
proves this. What records we have of such in the literature of every
country! Peradventure for a good man men have even dared to die.
Mankind has been glorified by countless silent heroisms, by unselfish
service, and sacrificing love. Christ, who always took the highest
ground in His estimate of men and never once put man's capacity for the
noble on a low level, made the high-water mark of human friendship the
standard of His own great action, "Greater love hath no man than this,
that a man lay down his life for his friends." This high-water mark
has often been reached. Men have given themselves to each other, with
nothing to gain, with no self-interest to serve, and with no keeping
back part of the price. It is false to history to base life on
selfishness, to leave out of the list of human motives the highest of
all. The miracle of friendship has been too often enacted on this dull
earth of ours, to suffer us to doubt either its possibility or its
wondrous beauty.
The classic instance of David and Jonathan represents the typical
friendship. They met, and at the meeting knew each other to be nearer
than kindred. By subtle elective affinity they felt that they belonged
to each other. Out of all the chaos of the time and the disorder of
their lives, there arose for these two souls a new and beautiful world,
where there reigned peace, and love, and sweet content. It was the
miracle of the death of self. Jonathan forgot his pride, and David his
ambition. It was as the smile of God which changed the world to them.
One of them it saved from the temptations of a squalid court, and the
other from the sourness of an exile's life. Jonathan's princely soul
had no room for envy or jealousy. David's frank nature rose to meet
the magnanimity of his friend.
In the kingdom of love there was no disparity between the king's son
and the shepherd boy. Such a gift as each gave and received is not to
be bought or sold. It was the fruit of the innate nobility of both: it
softened and tempered a very trying time for both. Jonathan withstood
his father's anger to shield his friend: David was patient with Saul
for his son's sake. They agreed to be true to each other in their
difficult position. Close and tender must have been the bond, which
had such fruit in princely generosity and mutual loyalty of soul.
Fitting was the beautiful lament, when David's heart was bereaved at
tragic Gilboa, "I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very
pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing
the love of women." Love is always wonderful, a new creation, fair and
fresh to every loving soul. It is the miracle of spring to the cold
dull earth.
When Montaigne wrote his essay on Friendship, he could do little but
tell the story of his friend. The essay continually reverts to this,
with joy that he had been privileged to have such a friend, with sorrow
at his loss. It is a chapter of his heart. There was an element of
necessity about it, as there is about all the great things of life. He
could not account for it. It came to him without effort or choice. It
was a miracle, but it happened. "If a man should importune me to give
a reason why I loved him, I can only answer, because it was he, because
it was I." It was as some secret appointment of heaven. They were
both grown men when they first met, and death separated them soon. "If
I should compare all my life with the four years I had the happiness to
enjoy the sweet society of this excellent man, it is nothing but smoke;
an obscure and tedious night from the day that I lost him. I have led
a sorrowful and languishing life ever since. I was so accustomed to be
always his second in all places and in all interests, that methinks I
am now no more than half a man, and have but half a being." We would
hardly expect such passion of love and regret from the easy-going,
genial, garrulous essayist.
The joy that comes from a true communion of heart with another is
perhaps one of the purest and greatest in the world, but its function
is not exhausted by merely giving pleasure. Though we may not be
conscious of it, there is a deeper purpose in it, an education in the
highest arts of living. We may be enticed by the pleasure it affords,
but its greatest good is got by the way. Even intellectually it means
the opening of a door into the mystery of life. Only love
_understands_ after all. It gives insight. We cannot truly know
anything without sympathy, without getting out of self and entering
into others. A man cannot be a true naturalist, and observe the ways
of birds and insects accurately, unless he can watch long and lovingly.
We can never know children, unless we love them. Many of the chambers
of the house of life are forever locked to us, until love gives us the
key.
To learn to love all kinds of nobleness gives insight into the true
significance of things, and gives a standard to settle their relative
importance. An uninterested spectator sees nothing; or, what is worse,
sees wrongly. Most of our mean estimates of human nature in modern
literature, and our false realisms in art, and our stupid pessimisms in
philosophy, are due to an unintelligent reading of surface facts. Men
set out to note and collate impressions, and make perhaps a scientific
study of slumdom, without genuine interest in the lives they see, and
therefore without true insight into them. They miss the inwardness,
which love alone can supply. If we look without love we can only see
the outside, the mere form and expression of the subject studied. Only
with tender compassion and loving sympathy can we see the beauty even
in the eye dull with weeping and in the fixed face pale with care. We
will often see noble patience shining through them, and loyalty to
duty, and virtues and graces unsuspected by others.
The divine meaning of a true friendship is that it is often the first
unveiling of the secret of love. It is not an end in itself, but has
most of its worth in what it leads to, the priceless gift of seeing
with the heart rather than with the eyes. To love one soul for its
beauty and grace and truth is to open the way to appreciate all
beautiful and true and gracious souls, and to recognize spiritual
beauty wherever it is seen.
The possibility at least of friendship must be a faith with us. The
cynical attitude is an offence. It is possible to find in the world
true-hearted, leal, and faithful dealing between man and man. To doubt
this is to doubt the divine in life. Faith in man is essential to
faith in God. In spite of all deceptions and disillusionments, in
spite of all the sham fellowships, in spite of the flagrant cases of
self-interest and callous cruelty, we must keep clear and bright our
faith in the possibilities of our nature. The man who hardens his
heart because he has been imposed on has no real belief in virtue, and
with suitable circumstances could become the deceiver instead of the
deceived. The great miracle of friendship with its infinite wonder and
beauty may be denied to us, and yet we may believe in it. To believe
that it is possible is enough, even though in its superbest form it has
never come to us. To possess it, is to have one of the world's
sweetest gifts.
Aristotle defines friendship as one soul abiding in two bodies. There
is no explaining such a relationship, but there is no denying it. It
has not deserted the world since Aristotle's time. Some of our modern
poets have sung of it with as brave a faith as ever poet of old. What
splendid monuments to friendship we possess in Milton's _Lycidas_ and
Tennyson's _In Memoriam_! In both there is the recognition of the
spiritual power of it, as well as the joy and comfort it brought. The
grief is tempered by an awed wonder and a glad memory.
The finest feature of Rudyard Kipling's work and it is a constant
feature of it, is the comradeship between commonplace soldiers of no
high moral or spiritual attainment, and yet it is the strongest force
in their lives, and on occasion makes heroes of them. We feel that
their faithfulness to each other is almost the only point at which
their souls are reached. The threefold cord of his soldiers, vulgar in
mind and common in thought as they are, is a cord which we feel is not
easily broken, and it is their friendship and loyalty to each other
which save them from utter vulgarity.
In Walt Whitman there is the same insight into the force of friendship
in ordinary life, with added wonder at the miracle of it. He is the
poet of comrades, and sings the song of companionship more than any
other theme. He ever comes back to the lifelong love of comrades. The
mystery and the beauty of it impressed him.
O tan-faced prairie-boy,
Before you came to camp came many a welcome gift,
Praises and presents came and nourishing food,
till at last among the recruits
_You_ came, taciturn, with nothing to give--we
but looked on each other,
When lo! more than all the gifts of the world you gave me.
After all, in spite of the vulgar materialism of our day, we do feel
that the spiritual side of life is the most important, and brings the
only true joy. And friendship in its essence is spiritual. It is the
free, spontaneous outflow of the heart, and is a gift from the great
Giver.
Friends are born, not made. At least it is so with the higher sort.
The marriage of souls is a heavenly mystery, which we cannot explain,
and which we need not try to explain. The method by which it is
brought about differs very much, and depends largely on temperament.
Some friendships grow, and ripen slowly and steadily with the years.
We cannot tell where they began, or how. They have become part of our
lives, and we just accept them with sweet content and glad confidence.
We have discovered that somehow we are rested, and inspired, by a
certain companionship; that we understand and are understood easily.
Or it may come like love at first sight, by the thrill of elective
affinity. This latter is the more uncertain, and needs to be tested
and corrected by the trial of the years that follow. It has to be
found out whether it is really spiritual kinship, or mere emotional
impulse. It is a matter of temper and character. A naturally reserved
person finds it hard to open his heart, even when his instinct prompts
him; while a sociable, responsive nature is easily companionable. It
is not always this quick attachment, however, which wears best, and
that is the reason why youthful friendships have the character of being
so fickle. They are due to a natural instinctive delight in society.
Most young people find it easy to be agreeable, and are ready to place
themselves under new influences.
But whatever be the method by which a true friendship is formed,
whether the growth of time or the birth of sudden sympathy, there
seems, on looking back, to have been an element of necessity. It is a
sort of predestined spiritual relationship. We speak of a man meeting
his fate, and we speak truly. When we look back we see it to be like
destiny; life converged to life, and there was no getting out of it
even if we wished it. It is not that we made a choice, but that the
choice made us. If it has come gradually, we waken to the presence of
the force which has been in our lives, and has come into them never
hasting but never resting, till now we know it to be an eternal
possession. Or, as we are going about other business, never dreaming
of the thing which occurs, the unexpected happens; on the road a light
shines on us, and life is never the same again.
In one of its aspects, faith is the recognition of the inevitableness
of providence; and when it is understood and accepted, it brings a
great consoling power into the life. We feel that we are in the hands
of a Love that orders our ways, and the knowledge means serenity and
peace. The fatality of friendship is gratefully accepted, as the
fatality of birth. To the faith which sees love in all creation, all
life becomes harmony, and all sorts of loving relationships among men
seem to be part of the natural order of the world. Indeed, such
miracles are only to be looked for, and if absent from the life of man
would make it hard to believe in the love of God.
The world thinks we idealize our friend, and tells us that love is
proverbially blind. Not so: it is only love that sees, and thus can
"win the secret of a weed's plain heart." We only see what dull eyes
never see at all. If we wonder what another man sees in his friend, it
should be the wonder of humility, not the supercilious wonder of pride.
He sees something which we are not permitted to witness. Beneath and
amongst what looks only like worthless slag, there may glitter the pure
gold of a fair character. That anybody in the world should be got to
love us, and to see in us not what colder eyes see, not even what we
are but what we may be, should of itself make us humble and gentle in
our criticism of others' friendships. Our friends see the best in us,
and by that very fact call forth the best from us.
The great difficulty in this whole subject is that the relationship of
friendship should so often be one-sided. It seems strange that there
should be so much unrequited affection in the world. It seems almost
impossible to get a completely balanced union. One gives so much more,
and has to be content to get so much less. One of the most humiliating
things in life is when another seems to offer his friendship lavishly,
and we are unable to respond. So much love seems to go a-begging. So
few attachments seem complete. So much affection seems unrequited.
But are we sure it is unrequited? The difficulty is caused by our
common selfish standards. Most people, if they had their choice, would
prefer to be loved rather than to love, if only one of the alternatives
were permitted. That springs from the root of selfishness in human
nature, which makes us think that possession brings happiness. But the
glory of life is to love, not to be loved; to give, not to get; to
serve, not to be served. It may not be our fault that we cannot
respond to the offer of friendship or love, but it is our misfortune.
The secret is revealed to the other, and hid from us. The gain is to
the other, and the loss is to us. The miracle is the love, and to the
lover comes the wonder of it, and the joy.
The Culture of Friendship
How were Friendship possible? In mutual devotedness to the Good and
True: otherwise impossible, except as Armed Neutrality, or hollow
Commercial League. A man, be the Heavens ever praised, is sufficient
for himself; yet were ten men, united in Love, capable of being and of
doing what ten thousand singly would fail in. Infinite is the help man
can yield to man.
CARLYLE, Sartor Resartus.
The Culture of Friendship
The Book of Proverbs might almost be called a treatise on Friendship,
so full is it of advice about the sort of person a young man should
consort with, and the sort of person he should avoid. It is full of
shrewd, and prudent, and wise, sometimes almost worldly-wise, counsel.
It is caustic in its satire about false friends, and about the way in
which friendships are broken. "The rich hath many friends," with an
easily understood implication concerning their quality. "Every man is
a friend to him that giveth gifts," is its sarcastic comment on the
ordinary motives of mean men. Its picture of the plausible, fickle,
lip-praising, and time-serving man, who blesseth his friend with a loud
voice, rising early in the morning, is a delicate piece of satire. The
fragile connections among men, as easily broken as mended pottery, get
illustration in the mischief-maker who loves to divide men. "A
whisperer separateth chief friends." There is keen irony here over the
quality of ordinary friendship, as well as condemnation of the
tale-bearer and his sordid soul.
This cynical attitude is so common that we hardly expect such a shrewd
book to speak heartily of the possibilities of human friendship. Its
object rather is to put youth on its guard against the dangers and
pitfalls of social life. It gives sound commercial advice about
avoiding becoming surety for a friend. It warms [Transcriber's note:
warns?] against the tricks, and cheats, and bad faith, which swarmed in
the streets of a city then, as they do still. It laughs, a little
bitterly, at the thought that friendship can be as common as the eager,
generous heart of youth imagines. It almost sneers at the gullibility
of men in this whole matter. "He that maketh many friends doeth it to
his own destruction."
And yet there is no book, even in classical literature, which so exalts
the idea of friendship, and is so anxious to have it truly valued, and
carefully kept. The worldly-wise warnings are after all in the
interests of true friendship. To condemn hypocrisy is not, as is so
often imagined, to condemn religion. To spurn the spurious is not to
reject the true. A sneer at folly may be only a covert argument for
wisdom. Satire is negative truth. The unfortunate thing is that most
men, who begin with the prudential worldly-wise philosophy, end there.
They never get past the sneer. Not so this wise book. In spite of its
insight into the weakness of man, in spite of its frank denunciation of
the common masquerade of friendship, it speaks of the true kind in
words of beauty that have never been surpassed in all the many
appraisements of this subject. "A friend loveth at all times, and is a
brother born for adversity. Faithful are the wounds of a friend.
Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart, so doth the sweetness of a
man's friend by hearty counsel. Thine own friend and thy father's
friend forsake not." These are not the words of a cynic, who has lost
faith in man.
True, this golden friendship is not a common thing to be picked up in
the street. It would not be worth much if it were. Like wisdom it
must be sought for as for hid treasures, and to keep it demands care
and thought. To think that every goose is a swan, that every new
comrade is the man of your own heart, is to have a very shallow heart.
Every casual acquaintance is not a hero. There are pearls of the
heart, which cannot be thrown to swine. Till we learn what a sacred
thing a true friendship is, it is futile to speak of the culture of
friendship. The man who wears his heart on his sleeve cannot wonder if
daws peck at it. There ought to be a sanctuary, to which few receive
admittance. It is great innocence, or great folly, and in this
connection the terms are almost synonymous, to open our arms to
everybody to whom we are introduced. The Book of Proverbs, as a manual
on friendship, gives as shrewd and caustic warnings as are needed, but
it does not go to the other extreme, and say that all men are liars,
that there are no truth and faithfulness to be found. To say so is to
speak in haste. There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother,
says this wisest of books. There is possible such a blessed
relationship, a state of love and trust and generous comradehood, where
a man feels safe to be himself, because he knows that he will not
easily be misunderstood.
The word friendship has been abased by applying it to low and unworthy
uses, and so there is plenty of copy still to be got from life by the
cynic and the satirist. The sacred name of friend has been bandied
about till it runs the risk of losing its true meaning. Rossetti's
versicle finds its point in life--
"Was it a friend or foe that spread these lies?"
"Nay, who but infants question in such wise?
'T was one of my most intimate enemies."
It is useless to speak of cultivating the great gift of friendship
unless we make clear to ourselves what we mean by a friend. We make
connections and acquaintances, and call them friends. We have few
friendships, because we are not willing to pay the price of friendship.
If we think it is not worth the price, that is another matter, and is
quite an intelligible position, but we must not use the word in
different senses, and then rail at fate because there is no miracle of
beauty and joy about our sort of friendship. Like all other spiritual
blessings it comes to all of us at some time or other, and like them is
often let slip. We have the opportunities, but we do not make use of
them. Most men make friends easily enough: few keep them. They do not
give the subject the care, and thought, and trouble, it requires and
deserves. We want the pleasure of society, without the duty. We would
like to get the good of our friends, without burdening ourselves with
any responsibility about keeping them friends. The commonest mistake
we make is that we spread our intercourse over a mass, and have no
depth of heart left. We lament that we have no stanch and faithful
friend, when we have really not expended the love which produces such.
We want to reap where we have not sown, the fatuousness of which we
should see as soon as it is mentioned. "She that asks her dear five
hundred friends" (as Cowper satirically describes a well-known type)
cannot expect the exclusive affection, which she has not given.
The secret of friendship is just the secret of all spiritual blessing.
The way to get is to give. The selfish in the end can never get
anything but selfishness. The hard find hardness everywhere. As you
mete, it is meted out to you.
Some men have a genius for friendship. That is because they are open
and responsive, and unselfish. They truly make the most of life; for
apart from their special joys, even intellect is sharpened by the
development of the affections. No material success in life is
comparable to success in friendship. We really do ourselves harm by
our selfish standards. There is an old Latin proverb,[1] expressing
the worldly view, which says that it is not possible for a man to love
and at the same time to be wise. This is only true when wisdom is made
equal to prudence and selfishness, and when love is made the same.
Rather it is never given to a man to be wise in the true and noble
sense, until he is carried out of himself in the purifying passion of
love, or the generosity of friendship. The self-centred being cannot
keep friends, even when he makes them; his selfish sensitiveness is
always in the way, like a diseased nerve ready to be irritated.
The culture of friendship is a duty, as every gift represents a
responsibility. It is also a necessity; for without watchful care it
can no more remain with us than can any other gift. Without culture it
is at best only a potentiality. We may let it slip, or we can use it
to bless our lives. The miracle of friendship, which came at first
with its infinite wonder and beauty, wears off, and the glory fades
into the light of common day. The early charm passes, and the soul
forgets the first exaltation. We are always in danger of mistaking the
common for the commonplace. We must not look upon it merely as the
great luxury of life, or it will cease to be even that. It begins with
emotion, but if it is to remain it must become a habit. Habit is fixed
when an accustomed thing is organized into life; and, whatever be the
genesis of friendship, it must become a habit, or it is in danger of
passing away as other impressions have done before.
Friendship needs delicate handling. We can ruin it by stupid
blundering at the very birth, and we can kill it by neglect. It is not
every flower that has vitality enough to grow in stony ground. Lack of
reticence, which is only the outward sign of lack of reverence, is
responsible for the death of many a fair friendship. Worse still, it
is often blighted at the very beginning by the insatiable desire for
piquancy in talk, which can forget the sacredness of confidence. "An
acquaintance grilled, scored, devilled, and served with mustard and
cayenne pepper, excites the appetite; whereas a slice of old friend
with currant jelly is but a sickly, unrelishing meat." [2] Nothing is
given to the man who is not worthy to possess it, and the shallow heart
can never know the joy of a friendship, for the keeping of which he is
not able to fulfil the essential conditions. Here also it is true that
from the man that hath not, is taken away even that which he hath.
The method for the culture of friendship finds its best and briefest
summary in the Golden Rule. To do to, and for, your friend what you
would have him do to, and for, you, is a simple compendium of the whole
duty of friendship. The very first principle of friendship is that it
is a mutual thing, as among spiritual equals, and therefore it claims
reciprocity, mutual confidence and faithfulness. There must be
sympathy to keep in touch with each other, but sympathy needs to be
constantly exercised. It is a channel of communication, which has to
be kept open, or it will soon be clogged and closed.
The practice of sympathy may mean the cultivation of similar tastes,
though that will almost naturally follow from the fellowship. But to
cultivate similar tastes does not imply either absorption of one of the
partners, or the identity of both. Rather, part of the charm of the
intercourse lies in the difference, which exists in the midst of
agreement. What is essential is that there should be a real desire and
a genuine effort to understand each other. It is well worth while
taking pains to preserve a relationship so full of blessing to both.
Here, as in all connections among men, there is also ample scope for
patience. When we think of our own need for the constant exercise of
this virtue, we will admit its necessity for others. After the first
flush of communion has passed, we must see in a friend things which
detract from his worth, and perhaps things which irritate us. This is
only to say that no man is perfect. With tact, and tenderness and
patience, it may be given us to help to remove what may be flaws in a
fine character, and in any case it is foolish to forget the great
virtues of our friend in fretful irritation at a few blemishes. We can
keep the first ideal in our memory, even if we know that it is not yet
an actual fact. We must not let our intercourse be coarsened, but must
keep it sweet and delicate, that it may remain a refuge from the coarse
world, a sanctuary where we leave criticism outside, and can breathe
freely.
_Trust_ is the first requisite for making a friend. How can we be
anything but alone, if our attitude to men is one of armed neutrality,
if we are suspicious, and assertive, and querulous, and over-cautious
in our advances? Suspicion kills friendship. There must be some
magnanimity and openness of mind, before a friendship can be formed.
We must be willing to give ourselves freely and unreservedly.
Some find it easier than others to make advances, because they are
naturally more trustful. A beginning has to be made somehow, and if we
are moved to enter into personal association with another, we must not
be too cautious in displaying our feeling. If we stand off in cold
reserve, the ice, which trembled to thawing, is gripped again by the
black hand of frost. There may be a golden moment which has been lost
through a foolish reserve. We are so afraid of giving ourselves away
cheaply--and it is a proper enough feeling, the value of which we learn
through sad experience--but on the whole perhaps the warm nature, which
acts on impulse, is of a higher type, than the over-cautious nature,
ever on the watch lest it commit itself. We can do nothing with each
other, we cannot even do business with each other, without a certain
amount of trust. Much more necessary is it in the beginning of a
deeper intercourse.
And if trust is the first requisite for making a friend, _faithfulness_
is the first requisite for keeping him. The way to have a friend is to
be a friend. Faithfulness is the fruit of trust. We must be ready to
lay hold of every opportunity which occurs of serving our friend. Life
is made up to most of us of little things, and many a friendship
withers through sheer neglect. Hearts are alienated, because each is
waiting for some great occasion for displaying affection. The great
spiritual value of friendship lies in the opportunities it affords for
service, and if these are neglected it is only to be expected that the
gift should be taken from us. Friendship, which begins with sentiment,
will not live and thrive on sentiment. There must be loyalty, which
finds expression in service. It is not the greatness of the help, or
the intrinsic value of the gift, which gives it its worth, but the
evidence it is of love and thoughtfulness.
Attention to detail is the secret of success in every sphere of life,
and little kindnesses, little acts of considerateness, little
appreciations, little confidences, are all that most of us are called
on to perform, but they are all that are needed to keep a friendship
sweet. Such thoughtfulness keeps our sentiment in evidence to both
parties. If we never show our kind feeling, what guarantee has our
friend, or even ourself, that it exists? Faithfulness in deed is the
outward result of constancy of soul, which is the rarest, and the
greatest, of virtues. If there has come to us the miracle of
friendship, if there is a soul to which our soul has been drawn, it is
surely worth while being loyal and true. Through the little occasions
for helpfulness, we are training for the great trial, if it should ever
come, when the fabric of friendship will be tested to the very
foundation. The culture of friendship, and its abiding worth, never
found nobler expression than in the beautiful proverb,[3] "A friend
loveth at all times, and is a brother born for adversity."
Most men do not deserve such a gift from heaven. They look upon it as
a convenience, and accept the privilege of love without the
responsibility of it. They even use their friends for their own
selfish purposes, and so never have true friends. Some men shed
friends at every step they rise in the social scale. It is mean and
contemptible to merely use men, so long as they further one's personal
interests. But there is a nemesis on such heartlessness. To such can
never come the ecstasy and comfort of mutual trust. This worldly
policy can never truly succeed. It stands to reason that they cannot
have brothers born for adversity, and cannot count on the joy of the
love that loveth at all times; for they do not possess the quality
which secures it. To act on the worldly policy, to treat a friend as
if he might become an enemy, is of course to be friendless. To
sacrifice a tried and trusted friend for any personal advantage of gain
or position, is to deprive our own heart of the capacity for friendship.
The passion for novelty will sometimes lead a man to act like this.
Some shallow minds are ever afflicted by a craving for new experiences.
They sit very loosely to the past. They are the easy victims of the
untried, and yearn perpetually for novel sensations. In this matter of
friendship they are ready to forsake the old for the new. They are
always finding a swan in every goose they meet. They have their reward
in a widowed heart. Says Shakespeare in his great manner,--
The friends thou hast and their adoption tried
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel,
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade.
The culture of friendship must pass into the consecration of
friendship, if it is to reach its goal. It is a natural evolution.
Friendship cannot be permanent unless it becomes spiritual. There must
be fellowship in the deepest things of the soul, community in the
highest thoughts, sympathy with the best endeavors. We are bartering
the priceless boon, if we are looking on friendship merely as a luxury,
and not as a spiritual opportunity. It is, or can be, an occasion for
growing in grace, for learning love, for training the heart to patience
and faith, for knowing the joy of humble service. We are throwing away
our chance, if we are not striving to be an inspiring and healthful
environment to our friend. We are called to be our best to our friend,
that he may be his best to us, bringing out what is highest and deepest
in the nature of both.
The culture of friendship is one of the approved instruments of culture
of the heart, without which a man has not truly come into his kingdom.
It is often only the beginning, but through tender and careful culture
it may be an education for the larger life of love. It broadens out in
ever-widening circles, from the particular to the general, and from the
general to the universal--from the individual to the social, and from
the social to God. The test of religion is ultimately a very simple
one. If we do not love those whom we have seen, we cannot love those
whom we have not seen. All our sentiment about people at a distance,
and our heart-stirrings for the distressed and oppressed, and our
prayers for the heathen, are pointless and fraudulent, if we are
neglecting the occasions for service lying to our hand. If we do not
love our brethren here, how can we love our brethren elsewhere, except
as a pious sentimentality? And if we do not love those we have seen,
how can we love God whom we have not seen?
This is the highest function of friendship, and is the reason why it
needs thoughtful culture. We should be led to God by the joy of our
lives as well as by the sorrow, by the light as well as by the
darkness, by human intercourse as well as by human loneliness. He is
the Giver of every good gift. We wound His heart of love, when we sin
against love. The more we know of Christ's spirit, and the more we
think of the meaning of God's fathomless grace, the more will we be
convinced that the way to please the Father and to follow the Son is to
cultivate the graces of kindliness and gentleness and tenderness, to
give ourselves to the culture of the heart. Not in the ecclesiastical
arena, not in polemic for a creed, not in self-assertion and
disputings, do we please our Master best, but in the simple service of
love. To seek the good of men is to seek the glory of God. They are
not two things, but one and the same. To be a strong hand in the dark
to another in the time of need, to be a cup of strength to a human soul
in a crisis of weakness, is to know the glory of life. To be a true
friend, saving his faith in man, and making him believe in the
existence of love, is to save his faith in God. And such service is
possible for all. We need not wait for the great occasion and for the
exceptional opportunity. We can never be without our chance, if we are
ready to keep the miracle of love green in our hearts by humble service.
The primal duties shine aloft like stars.
The charities that soothe and heal and bless,
Are scattered at the feet of man like flowers.
[1] _Non simul cuiquam conceditur, amare et sapere_.
[2] Thackeray, _Roundabout Papers_.
[3] Proverbs xvii. 17, R. V. margin.
The Fruits of Friendship
Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their
labor. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to
him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him
up. And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a
threefold cord is not quickly broken.--ECCLESIASTES.
O friend, my bosom said,
Through thee alone the sky is arched,
Through thee the rose is red,
All things through thee take nobler form
And look beyond the earth,
And is the mill-round of our fate,
A sun-path in thy worth.
Me too thy nobleness has taught
To master my despair;
The fountains of my hidden life
Are through thy friendship fair.
EMERSON.
The Fruits of Friendship
In our utilitarian age things are judged by their practical value. Men
ask of everything, What is its use? Nothing is held to be outside
criticism, neither the law because of its authority, nor religion
because of its sacredness. Every relationship in life also has been
questioned, and is asked to show the reason of its existence. Even
some relationships like marriage, for long held to be above question,
are put into the crucible.
On the whole it is a good spirit, though it can be abused and carried
to an absurd extreme. Criticism is inevitable, and ought to be
welcomed, provided we are careful about the true standard to apply.
When we judge a thing by its use, we must not have a narrow view of
what utility is. Usefulness to man is not confined to mere material
values. The common standards of the market-place cannot be applied to
the whole of life. The things which cannot be bought cannot be sold,
and the keenest valuator would be puzzled to put a price on some of
these unmarketable wares.
When we seek to show what are the fruits of friendship, we may be said
to put ourselves in line with the critical spirit of our age. But even
if it were proven that a man could make more of his life materially by
himself, if he gave no hostages to fortune, it would not follow that it
is well to disentangle oneself from the common human bonds; for our
_caveat_ would here apply, that utility is larger than mere material
gain.
But even from this point of view friendship justifies itself. Two are
better than one; for they have a good reward for their labor. The
principle of association in business is now accepted universally. It
is found even to pay, to share work and profit. Most of the world's
business is done by companies, or partnerships, or associated endeavor
of some kind. And the closer the intimacy between the men so engaged,
the intimacy of common desires and common purposes, and mutual respect
and confidence, and, if possible, friendship, the better chance there
is for success. Two are better than one from the point of view even of
the reward of each, and a threefold cord is not quickly broken, when a
single strand would snap.
When men first learned, even in its most rudimentary sense, that union
is strength, the dawn of civilization began. For offence and for
defence, the principle of association early proved itself the fittest
for survival. The future is always with Isaac, not with Ishmael--with
Jacob, not with Esau. In everything this is seen, in the struggle of
races, or trade, or ideas. Even as a religious method to make an
impact on the world, it is true. John of the Desert touched here a
life, and there a life; Jesus of Nazareth, seeking disciples, founding
a society, moved the world to its heart.
It is not necessary to labor this point, that two are better than one,
to a commercial age like ours, which, whatever it does not know, at
least knows its arithmetic. We would say that it is self-evident, that
by the law of addition it is double, and by the law of multiplication
twice the number. But it is not so exact as that, nor so self-evident.
When we are dealing with men, our ready-reckoner rules do not work out
correctly. In this region one and one are not always two. They are
sometimes more than two, and sometimes less than two. Union of all
kinds, which may be strength, may be weakness. It was not till Gideon
weeded out his army, once and twice, that he was promised victory. The
fruits of friendship may be corrupting, and unspeakably evil to the
life. The reward of the labor of two may be less than that of one.
The boy pulling a barrow is lucky if he get another boy to shove
behind, but if the boy behind not only ceases to shove, but sits on the
barrow, the last end is worse than the first. A threefold cord with
two of the strands rotten is worse than a single sound strand, for it
deceives into putting too much weight on it.
In social economics it is evident that society is not merely the sum of
the units that compose it. Two are better than one, not merely because
the force is doubled. It may even be said that two are better than
two. Two together mean more than two added singly; for a new element
is introduced which increases the power of each individually. When the
man Friday came into the life of Robinson Crusoe, he brought with him a
great deal more than his own individual value, which with his lower
civilization would not be very much. But to Robinson Crusoe he
represented society, and all the possibilities of social polity. It
meant also the satisfaction of the social instincts, the play of the
affections, and made Crusoe a different man. The two living together
were more than the two living on different desert islands.
The truth of this strange contradiction of the multiplication table is
seen in the relationship of friends. Each gives to the other, and each
receives, and the fruit of the intercourse is more than either in
himself possesses. Every individual relationship has contact with a
universal. To reach out to the fuller life of love is a divine
enchantment, because it leads to more than itself, and is the open door
into the mystery of life. We feel ourselves united to the race and no
longer isolated units, but in the sweep of the great social forces
which mould mankind. Every bond which binds man to man is a new
argument for the permanence of life itself, and gives a new insight
into its meaning. Love is the pledge and the promise of the future.