To Antiochus Philopappus.
1. PLATO is of opinion that it is very pardonable in a man to
acknowledge that he has any extraordinary passion for himself; and yet
the humor is attended with this ill consequent, besides several others,
that it renders us incapable of making a right judgment of ourselves.
For our affections usually blind our discerning faculties, unless we
have learned to raise them above the sordid level of things congenial
and familiar to us, to those which are truly noble and excellent in
themselves. And hence it is that we are so frequently exposed to the
attempts of a parasite, under the disguise and vizard of a friend. For
self-love, that grand flatterer within, willingly entertains another
from without, who will but soothe up and second the man in the good
opinions he has conceived of himself. For he who deservedly lies
under the character of one that loves to be flattered is doubtless
sufficiently fond of himself; and through abundance of complaisance to
his own person, not only wishes but thinks himself master of all those
perfections which may recommend him to others. And though indeed it be
laudable enough to covet such accomplishments, yet is it altogether
unsafe for any man to fancy them inherent in him.
Now, if truth be a ray of the divinity, as Plato says it is, and the
source of all the good that derives upon either Gods or men, then
certainly the flatterer must be looked upon as a public enemy to all
the Gods, and especially to Apollo; for he always acts counter to that
celebrated oracle of his, Know thyself, endeavoring to make every man
his own cheat, by keeping him ignorant of the good and ill qualities
that are in him; whereupon the good never arrive at perfection, and the
ill grow incorrigible.
2. Did flattery, indeed, as most other misfortunes do, generally
or altogether wait on the debauched and ignoble part of mankind,
the mischief were of less consequence, and might admit of an easier
prevention. But, as worms breed most in sweet and tender woods,
so usually the most obliging, the most brave and generous tempers
readiliest receive and longest entertain the flattering insect that
hangs and grows upon them. And since, to use Simonides’s expression,
it is not for persons of a narrow fortune, but for gentlemen of
estates, to keep a good stable of horses; so never saw we flattery the
attendant of the poor, the inglorious and inconsiderable plebeian, but
of the grandees of the world, the distemper and bane of great families
and affairs, the plague in kings’ chambers, and the ruin of their
kingdoms. Therefore it is a business of no small importance, and one
which requires no ordinary circumspection, so to be able to know a
flatterer in every shape he assumes, that the counterfeit resemblance
some time or other bring not true friendship itself into suspicion and
disrepute. For parasites,—like lice, which desert a dying man, whose
palled and vapid blood can feed them no longer,—never intermix in dry
and insipid business where there is nothing to be got; but prey upon a
noble quarry, the ministers of state and potentates of the earth, and
afterwards lousily shirk off, if the greatness of their fortune chance
to leave them. But it will not be wisdom in us to stay till such fatal
junctures, and then try the experiment, which will not only be useless
but dangerous and hurtful; for it is a deplorable thing for a man to
find himself then destitute of friends, when he most wants them, and
has no opportunity either of exchanging his false and faithless friend
for a fast and honest one. And therefore we should rather try our
friend, as we do our money, whether or not he be passable and current,
before we need him. For it is not enough to discover the cheat to our
cost, but we must so understand the flatterer, that he put no cheat
upon us; otherwise we should act like those who must needs take poison
to know its strength, and foolishly hazard their lives to inform their
judgment. And as we cannot approve of this carelessness, so neither
can we of that too scrupulous humor of those who, taking the measures
of true friendship only from the bare honesty and usefulness of the
man, immediately suspect a pleasant and easy conversation for a cheat.
For a friend is not a dull tasteless thing, nor does the decorum of
friendship consist in sourness and austerity of temper, but its very
port and gravity is soft and amiable,—