"There are, it seems," he writes to his friend Septitius, "certain
persons who in your company have blamed me, as being upon all occasions
too lavish in commendation of my friends. I not only acknowledge the
charge, but glory in it; for, can there be a nobler error than an
overflowing benevolence? But still, who are these, let me ask, that are
better acquainted with my friends than I am myself? Yet, grant there
are such, why will they deny me the satisfaction of so pleasing an
error? For, supposing my friends deserve not the high encomiums I give
them, certainly I am happy in believing they do. Let them recommend,
then, this ungenerous discernment to those who imagine (and their
number is not inconsiderable) that they show their judgment when they
indulge their censure. As for myself, they will never persuade me that
I can love my friends too well."
* * * * *
How amiable and just are sentiments like these rendering odious the
carping censure and ill-natured criticism which finds free currency
between those who, while meeting as acquaintances, perhaps affecting
friendship for each other, yet speak disparagingly, and are loath to
acknowledge the merit which they see in each other's character and
acquirements. It is safer, and certainly more becoming, to overpraise
than to undervalue and dispraise another. Faults are apparent enough,
and, for the most part, superficial; in the atmosphere of affection
and respect they fall away presently and disappear altogether, while
virtues may be too deep sometimes and delicate in expression to be
recognized readily by those who seek for blemishes rather. Modest
praise is the freshest and purest atmosphere for modest virtue to
thrive in and come to maturity. And the most exalted qualities of
character admiration alone brings into the relief that discloses their
proportions and reveals their lustre. A certain sentiment of worship
insinuates itself into our affections for a near and dear friend; and
while endearing us the more, yet holds us at the distance of reverence
and of self-respect that belongs to the noblest friendships. 'Tis the
poverty of life that renders friendship poor and cold. I am drawn to
one who, while I approach yet seems distant still; whose personality
has a quality so commanding as to forbid a familiarity not justified
by affection and reason alike, and whom I never quite come up to, but
yet is akin to me in the attributes that win my regard and insure my
affection. A good man is a bashful man; he affects all who come within
his influence with that grace. Do not the gods blush in descending to
meet alike our affections and our eyes?
"The eldest god is still a child."