Introduction
Marcus Tullius Cicero, the greatest of Roman orators and the chief master of Latin
prose style, was born at Arpinum, Jan. 3, 106 B.C. His father, who was a man of property
and belonged to the class of the "Knights," moved to Rome when Cicero was a
child; and the future statesman received an elaborate education in rhetoric, law, and
philosophy, studying and practising under some of the most noted teachers of the time. He
began his career as an advocate at the age of twenty-five, and almost immediately came to
be recognized not only as a man of brilliant talents but also as a courageous upholder of
justice in the face of grave political danger. After two years of practice he left Rome to
travel in Greece and Asia, taking all the opportunities that offered to study his art
under distinguished masters. He returned to Rome greatly improved in health and in
professional skill, and in 76 B.C. was elected to the office of quaestor. He was assigned
to the province of Lilybaeum in Sicily, and the vigor and justice of his administration
earned him the gratitude of the inhabitants. It was at their request that he undertook in
70 B.C. the prosecution of Verres, who as praetor had subjected the Sicilians to
incredible extortion and oppression; and his successful conduct of this case, which ended
in the conviction and banishment of Verres, may be said to have launched him on his
political career. He became aedile in the same year, in 67 B.C. praetor, and in 64 B.C.
was elected consul by a large majority. The most important event of the year of his
consulship was the conspiracy of Catiline. This notorious criminal of patrician rank had
conspired with a number of others, many of them young men of high birth but dissipated
character, to seize the chief offices of the state, and to extricate themselves from the
pecuniary and other difficulties that had resulted from their excesses, by the wholesale
plunder of the city. The plot was unmasked by the vigilance of Cicero, five of the
traitors were summarily executed, and in the overthrow of the army that had been gathered
in their support Catiline himself perished. Cicero regarded himself as the savior of his
country, and his country for the moment seemed to give grateful assent.
But reverses were at hand. During the existence of the political combination of
Pompey, Caesar, and Crassus, known as the first triumvirate, P. Clodius, an enemy of
Cicero's, proposed a law banishing "any one who had put Roman citizens to death
without trial." This was aimed at Cicero on account of his share in the Catiline
affair, and in March, 58 B.C., he left Rome. The same day a law was passed by which he was
banished by name, and his property was plundered and destroyed, a temple to Liberty being
erected on the site of his house in the city. During his exile Cicero's manliness to some
extent deserted him. He drifted from place to place, seeking the protection of officials
against assassination, writing letters urging his supporters to agitate for his recall,
sometimes accusing them of lukewarmness and even treachery, bemoaning the ingratitude of
his country or regretting the course of action that had led to his outlawry, and suffering
from extreme depression over his separation from his wife and children and the wreck of
his political ambitions. Finally, in August, 57 B.C., the decree for his restoration was
passed, and he returned to Rome the next month, being received with immense popular
enthusiasm. During the next few years the renewal of the understanding among the triumvirs
shut Cicero out from any leading part in politics, and he resumed his activity in the law
courts, his most important case being, perhaps, the defense of Milo for the murder of
Clodius, Cicero's most troublesome enemy. This oration, in the revised form in which it
has come down to us, is ranked as among the finest specimens of the art of the orator,
though in its original form it failed to secure Milo's acquittal. Meantime, Cicero was
also devoting much time to literary composition, and his letters show great dejection over
the political situation, and a somewhat wavering attitude towards the various parties in
the state. In 51 B.C. he went to Cilicia in Asia Minor as proconsul, an office which he
administered with efficiency and integrity in civil affairs and with success in military.
He returned to Italy at the end of the following year, and he was publicly thanked by the
senate for his services, but disappointed in his hopes for a triumph. The war for
supremacy between Caesar and Pompey, which had for some time been gradually growing more
certain, broke out in 49 B.C., when Caesar led his army across the Rubicon, and Cicero
after much irresolution threw in his lot with Pompey, who was overthrown the next year in
the battle of Pharsalus and later murdered in Egypt. Cicero returned to Italy, where
Caesar treated him magnanimously, and for some time he devoted himself to philosophical
and rhetorical writing. In 46 B.C. he divorced his wife Terentia, to whom he had been
married for thirty years, and married the young and wealthy Publilia in order to relieve
himself from financial difficulties; but her also he shortly divorced. Caesar, who had now
become supreme in Rome, was assassinated in 44 B.C., and though Cicero was not a sharer in
the conspiracy, he seems to have approved the deed. In the confusion which followed he
supported the cause of the conspirators against Antony; and when finally the triumvirate
of Antony, Octavius, and Lepidus was established, Cicero was included among the
proscribed, and on December 7, 43 B.C., he was killed by agents of Antony. His head and
hand were cut off and exhibited at Rome.
The most important orations of the last months of his life were the fourteen
"Philippics" delivered against Antony, and the price of this enmity he paid with
his life.
To his contemporaries Cicero was primarily the great forensic and political orator
of his time, and the fifty-eight speeches which have come down to us bear testimony to the
skill, wit, eloquence, and passion which gave him his preeminence. But these speeches of
necessity deal with the minute details of the occasions which called them forth, and so
require for their appreciation a full knowledge of the history, political and personal, of
the time. The letters, on the other hand, are less elaborate both in style and in the
handling of current events, while they serve to reveal his personality, and to throw light
upon Roman life in the last days of the Republic in an extremely vivid fashion. Cicero as
a man, in spite of his self-importance, the vacillation of his political conduct in
desperate crises, and the whining despondency of his times of adversity, stands out as at
bottom a patriotic Roman of substantial honesty, who gave his life to check the inevitable
fall of the commonwealth to which he was devoted. The evils which were undermining the
Republic bear so many striking resemblances to those which threaten the civic and national
life of America today that the interest of the period is by no means merely historical.
As a philosopher, Cicero's most important function was to make his countrymen
familiar with the main schools of Greek thought. Much of this writing is thus of secondary
interest to us in comparison with his originals, but in the fields of religious theory and
of the application of philosophy to life he made important first-hand contributions. From
these works has been selected the following treatise, On Friendship, which has proved of
most permanent and widespread interest to posterity, and which gives a clear impression of
the way in which a high-minded Roman thought about some of the main problems of human
life.
Part I
The augur Quintus Mucius Scaevola used to recount a number of stories about his
father-in-law, Gaius Laelius, accurately remembered and charmingly told; and whenever he
talked about him always gave him the title of "the wise" without any hesitation.
I had been introduced by my father to Scaevola as soon as I had assumed the toga virilis,
and I took advantage of the introduction never to quit the venerable man's side as long as
I was able to stay and he was spared to us. The consequence was that I committed to memory
many disquisitions of his, as well as many short pointed apophthegms, and, in short, took
as much advantage of his wisdom as I could. When he died, I attached myself to Scaevola
the Pontifex, whom I may venture to call quite the most distinguished of our countrymen
for ability and uprightness. But of this latter I shall take other occasions to speak. To
return to Scaevola the augur: Among many other occasions I particularly remember one. He
was sitting on a semicircular garden-bench, as was his custom, when I and a very few
intimate friends were there, and he chanced to turn the conversation upon a subject which
about that time was in many people's mouths. You must remember, Atticus, for you were very
intimate with Publius Sulpicius, what expressions of astonishment, or even indignation,
were called forth by his mortal quarrel, as tribune, with the consul Quintus Pompeius,
with whom he had formerly lived on terms of the closest intimacy and affection. Well, on
this occasion, happening to mention this particular circumstance, Scaevola detailed to us
a discourse of Laelius on friendship delivered to himself and Laelius' other son-in-law,
Gaius Fannius, son of Marcus Fannius, a few days after the death of Africanus. The points
of that discussion I committed to memory, and have arranged them in this book at my own
discretion. For I have brought the speakers, as it were, personally on to my stage to
prevent the constant "said I" and "said he" of a narrative, and to
give the discourse the air of being orally delivered in our hearing.
You have often urged me to write something on Friendship, and I quite acknowledged that
the subject seemed one worth everybody's investigation, and specially suited to the close
intimacy that has existed between you and me. Accordingly I was quite ready to benefit the
public at your request.
As to the dramatis personae: In the treatise On Old Age, which I dedicated to you, I
introduced Cato as chief speaker. No one, I thought, could with greater propriety speak on
old age than one who had been an old man longer than any one else, and had been
exceptionally vigorous in his old age. Similarly, having learnt from tradition that of all
friendships that between Gaius Laelius and Publius Scipio was the most remarkable, I
thought Laelius was just the person to support the chief part in a discussion on
friendship which Scaevola remembered him to have actually taken. Moreover, a discussion of
this sort gains somehow in weight from the authority of men of ancient days, especially if
they happen to have been distinguished. So it comes about that in reading over what I have
myself written I have a feeling at times that it is actually Cato that is speaking, not I.
Finally, as I sent the former essay to you as a gift from one old man to another, so I
have dedicated this On Friendship as a most affectionate friend to his friend. In the
former Cato spoke, who was the oldest and wisest man of his day; in this Laelius speaks on
friendship - Laelius, who was at once a wise man (that was the title given him) and
eminent for his famous friendship. Please forget me for a while; imagine Laelius to be
speaking.
Gaius Fannius and Quintus Mucius come to call on their father-in-law after the death of
Africanus. They start the subject; Laelius answers them. And the whole essay on friendship
is his. In reading it you will recognise a picture of yourself.
2. Fannius. You are quite right, Laelius! there never was a better or more illustrious
character than Africanus. But you should consider that at the present moment all eyes are
on you. Everybody calls you "the wise" par excellence, and thinks you so. The
same mark of respect was lately paid Cato, and we know that in the last generation Lucius
Atilius was called "the wise." But in both cases the word was applied with a
certain difference. Atilius was so called from his reputation as a jurist; Cato got the
name as a kind of honorary title and in extreme old age because of his varied experience
of affairs, and his reputation for foresight and firmness, and the sagacity of the
opinions which he delivered in senate and forum. You, however, are regarded as
"wise" in a somewhat different sense - not alone on account of natural ability
and character, but also from your industry and learning; and not in the sense in which the
vulgar, but that in which scholars, give that title. In this sense we do not read of any
one being called wise in Greece except one man at Athens; and he, to be sure, had been
declared by the oracle of Apollo also to be "the supremely wise man." For those
who commonly go by the name of the Seven Sages are not admitted into the category of the
wise by fastidious critics. Your wisdom people believe to consist in this, that you look
upon yourself as self-sufficing and regard the changes and chances of mortal life as
powerless to affect your virtue. Accordingly they are always asking me, and doubtless also
our Scaevola here, how you bear the death of Africanus. This curiosity has been the more
excited from the fact that on the Nones of this month, when we augurs met as usual in the
suburban villa of Decimus Brutus for consultation, you were not present, though it had
always been your habit to keep that appointment and perform that duty with the utmost
punctuality.
Scaevola. Yes, indeed, Laelius, I am often asked the question mentioned by Fannius. But
I answer in accordance with what I have observed: I say that you bear in a reasonable
manner the grief which you have sustained in the death of one who was at once a man of the
most illustrious character and a very dear friend. That of course you could not but be
affected - anything else would have been wholly unnatural in a man of your gentle nature -
but that the cause of your non-attendance at our college meeting was illness, not
melancholy.
Laelius. Thanks, Scaevola! You are quite right; you spoke the exact truth. For in fact
I had no right to allow myself to be withdrawn from a duty which I had regularly
performed, as long as I was well, by any personal misfortune; nor do I think that anything
that can happen will cause a man of principle to intermit a duty. As for your telling me,
Fannius, of the honourable appellation given me (an appellation to which I do not
recognise my title, and to which I make no claim), you doubtless act from feelings of
affection; but I must say that you seem to me to do less than justice to Cato. If any one
was ever "wise," - of which I have my doubts - he was. Putting aside everything
else, consider how he bore his son's death! I had not forgotten Paulus; I had seen with my
own eyes Gallus. But they lost their sons when mere children; Cato his when he was a
full-grown man with an assured reputation. Do not therefore be in a hurry to reckon as
Cato's superior even that same famous personage whom Apollo, as you say, declared to be
"the wisest." Remember the former's reputation rests on deeds, the latter's on
words.
3. Now, as far as I am concerned (I speak to both of you now), believe me, the case
stands thus: If I were to say that I am not affected by regret for Scipio, I must leave
the philosophers to justify my conduct, but in point of fact I should be telling a lie.
Affected of course I am by the loss of a friend as I think there will never be again, such
as I can fearlessly say there never was before. But I stand in no need of medicine. I can
find my own consolation, and it consists chiefly in my being free from the mistaken notion
which generally causes pain at the departure of friends. To Scipio I am convinced no evil
has befallen: mine is the disaster, if disaster there be; and to be severely distressed at
one's own misfortunes does not show that you love your friend, but that you love yourself.
As for him, who can say that all is not more than well? For, unless he had taken the
fancy to wish for immortality, the last thing of which he ever thought, what is there for
which mortal man may wish that he did not attain? In his early manhood he more than
justified by extraordinary personal courage the hopes which his fellow-citizens had
conceived of him as a child. He never was a candidate for the consulship, yet was elected
consul twice: the first time before the legal age; the second at a time which, as far as
he was concerned, was soon enough, but was near being too late for the interests of the
State. By the overthrow of two cities which were the most bitter enemies of our Empire, he
put an end not only to the wars then raging, but also to the possibility of others in the
future. What need to mention the exquisite grace of his manners, his dutiful devotion to
his mother, his generosity to his sisters, his liberality to his relations, the integrity
of his conduct to every one? You know all this already. Finally, the estimation in which
his fellow-citizens held him has been shown by the signs of mourning which accompanied his
obsequies. What could such a man have gained by the addition of a few years? Though age
need not be a burden, - as I remember Cato arguing in the presence of myself and Scipio
two years before he died, - yet it cannot but take away the vigour and freshness which
Scipio was still enjoying. We may conclude therefore that his life, from the good fortune
which had attended him and the glory he had obtained, was so circumstanced that it could
not be bettered, while the suddenness of his death saved him the sensation of dying. As to
the manner of his death it is difficult to speak; you see what people suspect. Thus much,
however, I may say: Scipio in his lifetime saw many days of supreme triumph and
exultation, but none more magnificent than his last, on which, upon the rising of the
Senate, he was escorted by the senators and the people of Rome, by the allies, and by the
Latins, to his own door. From such an elevation of popular esteem the next step seems
naturally to be an ascent to the gods above, rather than a descent to Hades.
4. For I am not one of these modern philosophers who maintain that our souls perish
with our bodies, and that death ends all. With me ancient opinion has more weight: whether
it be that of our own ancestors, who attributed such solemn observances to the dead, as
they plainly would not have done if they had believed them to be wholly annihilated; or
that of the philosophers who once visited this country, and who by their maxims and
doctrines educated Magna Graecia, which at that time was in a flourishing condition,
though it has now been ruined; or that of the man who was declared by Apollo's oracle to
be "most wise," and who used to teach without the variation which is to be found
in most philosophers that "the souls of men are divine, and that when they have
quitted the body a return to heaven is open to them, least difficult to those who have
been most virtuous and just." This opinion was shared by Scipio. Only a few days
before his death - as though he had a presentiment of what was coming - he discoursed for
three days on the state of the republic. The company consisted of Philus and Manlius and
several others, and I had brought you, Scaevola, along with me. The last part of his
discourse referred principally to the immortality of the soul; for he told us what he had
heard from the elder Africanus in a dream. Now if it be true that in proportion to a man's
goodness the escape from what may be called the prison and bonds of the flesh is easiest,
whom can we imagine to have had an easier voyage to the gods than Scipio? I am disposed to
think, therefore, that in his case mourning would be a sign of envy rather than of
friendship. If, however, the truth rather is that the body and soul perish together, and
that no sensation remains, then though there is nothing good in death, at least there is
nothing bad. Remove sensation, and a man is exactly as though he had never been born; and
yet that this man was born is a joy to me, and will be a subject to rejoicing to this
State to its last hour.
Wherefore, as I said before, all is as well as possible with him. Not so with me; for
as I entered life before him, it would have been fairer for me to leave it also before
him. Yet such is the pleasure I take in recalling our friendship, that I look upon my life
as having been a happy one because I have spent it with Scipio. With him I was associated
in public and private business; with him I lived in Rome and served abroad; and between us
there was the most complete harmony in our tastes, our pursuits, and our sentiments, which
is the true secret of friendship. It is not therefore in that reputation for wisdom
mentioned just now by Fannius - especially as it happens to be groundless - that I find my
happiness so much, as in the hope that the memory of our friendship will be lasting. What
makes me care the more about this is the fact that in all history there are scarcely three
or four pairs of friends on record; and it is classed with them that I cherish a hope of
the friendship of Scipio and Laelius being known to posterity.
Fannius. Of course that must be so, Laelius. But since you have mentioned the word
friendship, and we are at leisure, you would be doing me a great kindness, and I expect
Scaevola also, if you would do as it is your habit to do when asked questions on other
subjects, and tell us your sentiments about friendship, its nature, and the rules to be
observed in regard to it.
Scaevola. I shall of course be delighted. Fannius has anticipated the very request I
was about to make. So you will be doing us both a great favour.
5. Laelius. I should certainly have no objection if I felt confidence in myself. For
the theme is a noble one, and we are (as Fannius has said) at leisure. But who am I? and
what ability have I? What you propose is all very well for professional philosophers, who
are used, particularly if Greeks, to have the subject for discussion proposed to them on
the spur of the moment. It is a task of considerable difficulty, and requires no little
practice. Therefore for a set discourse on friendship you must go, I think, to
professional lecturers. All I can do is to urge on you to regard friendship as the
greatest thing in the world; for there is nothing which so fits in with our nature, or is
so exactly what we want in prosperity or adversity.
But I must at the very beginning lay down this principle - friendship can only exist
between good men. I do not, however, press this too closely, like the philosophers who
push their definitions to a superfluous accuracy. They have truth on their side, perhaps,
but it is of no practical advantage. Those, I mean, who say that no one but the
"wise" is "good." Granted, by all means. But the "wisdom"
they mean is one to which no mortal ever yet attained. We must concern ourselves with the
facts of everyday life as we find it - not imaginary and ideal perfections. Even Gaius
Fannius, Manius Curius, and Tiberius Coruncanius, whom our ancestors decided to be
"wise," I could never declare to be so according to their standard. Let them,
then, keep this word "wisdom" to themselves. Everybody is irritated by it; no
one understands what it means. Let them but grant that the men I mentioned were
"good." No, they won't do that either. No one but the "wise" can be
allowed that title, say they. Well, then, let us dismiss them and manage as best we may
with our own poor mother wit, as the phrase is.
We mean then by the "good" those whose actions and lives leave no question as
to their honour, purity, equity, and liberality; who are free from greed, lust, and
violence; and who have the courage of their convictions. The men I have just named may
serve as examples. Such men as these being generally accounted "good," let us
agree to call them so, on the ground that to the best of human ability they follow nature
as the most perfect guide to a good life.
Now this truth seems clear to me, that nature has so formed us that a certain tie
unites us all, but that this tie becomes stronger from proximity. So it is that
fellow-citizens are preferred in our affections to foreigners, relations to strangers; for
in their case Nature herself has caused a kind of friendship to exist, though it is one
which lacks some of the elements of permanence. Friendship excels relationship in this,
that whereas you may eliminate affection from relationship, you cannot do so from
friendship. Without it relationship still exists in name, friendship does not. You may
best understand this friendship by considering that, whereas the merely natural ties
uniting the human race are indefinite, this one is so concentrated, and confined to so
narrow a sphere, that affection is ever shared by two persons only, or at most by a few.
6. Now friendship may be thus defined: a complete accord on all subjects human and
divine, joined with mutual good will and affection. And with the exception of wisdom, I am
inclined to think nothing better than this has been given to man by the immortal gods.
There are people who give the palm to riches or to good health, or to power and office,
many even to sensual pleasures. This last is the ideal of brute beasts; and of the others
we may say that they are frail and uncertain, and depend less on our own prudence than on
the caprice of fortune. Then there are those who find the "chief good" in
virtue. Well, that is a noble doctrine. But the very virtue they talk of is the parent and
preserver of friendship, and without it friendship cannot possibly exist.
Let us, I repeat, use the word virtue in the ordinary acceptation and meaning of the
term, and do not let us define it in high-flown language. Let us account as good the
persons usually considered so, such as Paulus, Cato, Gallus, Scipio, and Philus. Such men
as these are good enough for everyday life; and we need not trouble ourselves about those
ideal characters which are nowhere to be met with.
Well, between men like these the advantages of friendship are almost more than I can
say. To begin with, how can life be worth living, to use the words of Ennius, which lacks
that repose which is to be found in the mutual good will of a friend? What can be more
delightful than to have some one to whom you can say everything with the same absolute
confidence as to yourself? Is not prosperity robbed of half its value if you have no one
to share your joy? On the other hand, misfortunes would be hard to bear if there were not
some one to feel them even more acutely than yourself. In a word, other objects of
ambition serve for particular ends - riches for use, power for securing homage, office for
reputation, pleasure for enjoyment, health for freedom from pain and the full use of the
functions of the body. But friendship embraces innumerable advantages. Turn which way you
please, you will find it at hand. It is everywhere; and yet never out of place, never
unwelcome. Fire and water themselves, to use a common expression, are not of more
universal use than friendship. I am not now speaking of the common or modified form of it,
though even that is a source of pleasure and profit, but of that true and complete
friendship which existed between the select few who are known to fame. Such friendship
enhances prosperity, and relieves adversity of its burden by halving and sharing it.
7. And great and numerous as are the blessings of friendship, this certainly is the
sovereign one, that it gives us bright hopes for the future and forbids weakness and
despair. In the face of a true friend a man sees as it were a second self. So that where
his friend is he is; if his friend be rich, he is not poor; though he be weak, his
friend's strength is his; and in his friend's life he enjoys a second life after his own
is finished. This last is perhaps the most difficult to conceive. But such is the effect
of the respect, the loving remembrance, and the regret of friends which follow us to the
grave. While they take the sting out of death, they add a glory to the life of the
survivors. Nay, if you eliminate from nature the tie of affection, there will be an end of
house and city, nor will so much as the cultivation of the soil be left. If you don't see
the virtue of friendship and harmony, you may learn it by observing the effects of
quarrels and feuds. Was any family ever so well established, any State so firmly settled,
as to be beyond the reach of utter destruction from animosities and factions? This may
teach you the immense advantage of friendship.
They say that a certain philosopher of Agrigentum, in a Greek poem, pronounced with the
authority of an oracle the doctrine that whatever in nature and the universe was
unchangeable was so in virtue of the binding force of friendship; whatever was changeable
was so by the solvent power of discord. And indeed this is a truth which everybody
understands and practically attests by experience. For if any marked instance of loyal
friendship in confronting or sharing danger comes to light, every one applauds it to the
echo. What cheers there were, for instance, all over the theatre at a passage in the new
play of my friend and guest Pacuvius; where, the king not knowing which of the two was
Orestes, Pylades declared himself to be Orestes, that he might die in his stead, while the
real Orestes kept on asserting that it was he. The audience rose en masse and clapped
their hands. And this was at an incident in fiction: what would they have done, must we
suppose, if it had been in real life? You can easily see what a natural feeling it is,
when men who would not have had the resolution to act thus themselves, shewed how right
they thought it in another.
I don't think I have any more to say about friendship. If there is any more, and I have
no doubt there is much, you must, if you care to do so, consult those who profess to
discuss such matters.
Fannius. We would rather apply to you. Yet I have often consulted such persons, and
have heard what they had to say with a certain satisfaction. But in your discourse one
somehow feels that there is a different strain.
Scaevola. You would have said that still more, Fannius, if you had been present the
other day in Scipio's pleasure-grounds when we had the discussion about the State. How
splendidly he stood up for justice against Philus' elaborate speech!
Fannius. Ah! it was naturally easy for the justest of men to stand up for justice.
Scaevola, Well, then, what about friendship? Who could discourse on it more easily than
the man whose chief glory is a friendship maintained with the most absolute fidelity,
constancy, and integrity?
Part II
8. Laelius. Now you are really using force. It makes no difference what kind of force
you use: force it is. For it is neither easy nor right to refuse a wish of my sons-in-law,
particularly when the wish is a creditable one in itself.
Well, then, it has very often occurred to me when thinking about friendship, that the
chief point to be considered was this: is it weakness and want of means that make
friendship desired? I mean, is its object an interchange of good offices, so that each may
give that in which he is strong, and receive that in which he is weak? Or is it not rather
true that, although this is an advantage naturally belonging to friendship, yet its
original cause is quite other, prior in time, more noble in character, and springing more
directly from our nature itself? The Latin word for friendship - amicitia - is derived
from that for love - amor; and love is certainly the prime mover in contracting mutual
affection. For as to material advantages, it often happens that those are obtained even by
men who are courted by a mere show of friendship and treated with respect from interested
motives. But friendship by its nature admits of no feigning, no pretence: as far as it
goes it is both genuine and spontaneous. Therefore I gather that friendship springs from a
natural impulse rather than a wish for help: from an inclination of the heart, combined
with a certain instinctive feeling of love, rather than from a deliberate calculation of
the material advantage it was likely to confer. The strength of this feeling you may
notice in certain animals. They show such love to their offspring for a certain period,
and are so beloved by them, that they clearly have a share in this natural, instinctive
affection. But of course it is more evident in the case of man: first, in the natural
affection between children and their parents, an affection which only shocking wickedness
can sunder: and next, when the passion of love has attained to a like strength - on our
finding, that is, some one person with whose character and nature we are in full sympathy,
because we think that we perceive in him what I may call the beacon-light of virtue. For
nothing inspires love, nothing conciliates affection, like virtue. Why, in a certain sense
we may be said to feel affection even for men we have never seen, owing to their honesty
and virtue. Who, for instance, fails to dwell on the memory of Gaius Fabricius and Manius
Curius with some affection and warmth of feeling, though he has never seen them? Or who
but loathes Tarquinius Superbus, Spurius Cassius, Spurius Maelius? We have fought for
empire in Italy with two great generals, Pyrrhus and Hannibal. For the former, owing to
his probity, we entertain no great feelings of enmity: the latter, owing to his cruelty,
our country has detested and always will detest.
9. Now, if the attraction of probity is so great that we can love it not only in those
whom we have never seen, but, what is more, actually in an enemy, we need not be surprised
if men's affections are roused when they fancy that they have seen virtue and goodness in
those with whom a close intimacy is possible. I do not deny that affection is strengthened
by the actual receipt of benefits, as well as by the perception of a wish to render
service, combined with a closer intercourse. When these are added to the original impulse
of the heart, to which I have alluded, a quite surprising warmth of feeling springs up.
And if any one thinks that this comes from a sense of weakness, that each may have some
one to help him to his particular need, all I can say is that, when he maintains it to be
born of want and poverty, he allows to friendship an origin very base, and a pedigree, if
I may be allowed the expression, far from noble. If this had been the case, a man's
inclination to friendship would be exactly in proportion to his low opinion of his own
resources. Whereas the truth is quite the other way. For when a man's confidence in
himself is greatest, when he is so fortified by virtue and wisdom as to want nothing and
to feel absolutely self-dependent, it is then that he is most conspicuous for seeking out
and keeping up friendships. Did Africanus, for example, want anything of me? Not the least
in the world! Neither did I of him. In my case it was an admiration of his virtue, in his
an opinion, maybe, which he entertained of my character, that caused our affection. Closer
intimacy added to the warmth of our feelings. But though many great material advantages
did ensue, they were not the source from which our affection proceeded. For as we are not
beneficent and liberal with any view of extorting gratitude, and do not regard an act of
kindness as an investment, but follow a natural inclination to liberality; so we look on
friendship as worth trying for, not because we are attracted to it by the expectation of
ulterior gain, but in the conviction that what it has to give us is from first to last
included in the feeling itself.
Far different is the view of those who, like brute beasts, refer everything to sensual
pleasure. And no wonder. Men who have degraded all their powers of thought to an object so
mean and contemptible can of course raise their eyes to nothing lofty, to nothing grand
and divine. Such persons indeed let us leave out of the present question. And let us
accept the doctrine that the sensation of love and the warmth of inclination have their
origin in a spontaneous feeling which arises directly the presence of probity is
indicated. When once men have conceived the inclination, they of course try to attach
themselves to the object of it, and move themselves nearer and nearer to him. Their aim is
that they may be on the same footing and the same level in regard to affection, and be
more inclined to do a good service than to ask a return, and that there should be this
noble rivalry between them. Thus both truths will be established. We shall get the most
important material advantages from friendship; and its origin from a natural impulse
rather than from a sense of need will be at once more dignified and more in accordance
with fact. For if it were true that its material advantages cemented friendship, it would
be equally true that any change in them would dissolve it. But nature being incapable of
change, it follows that genuine friendships are eternal.
So much for the origin of friendship. But perhaps you would not care to hear any more.
Fannius. Nay, pray go on; let us have the rest, Laelius. I take on myself to speak for
my friend here as his senior.
Scaevola. Quite right! Therefore, pray let us hear.
10. Laelius. Well, then, my good friends, listen to some conversations about friendship
which very frequently passed between Scipio and myself. I must begin by telling you,
however, that he used to say that the most difficult thing in the world was for a
friendship to remain unimpaired to the end of life. So many things might intervene:
conflicting interests; differences of opinion in politics; frequent changes in character,
owing sometimes to misfortunes, sometimes to advancing years. He used to illustrate these
facts from the analogy of boyhood, since the warmest affections between boys are often
laid aside with the boyish toga; and even if they did manage to keep them up to
adolescence, they were sometimes broken by a rivalry in courtship, or for some other
advantage to which their mutual claims were not compatible. Even if the friendship was
prolonged beyond that time, yet it frequently received a rude shock should the two happen
to be competitors for office. For while the most fatal blow to friendship in the majority
of cases was the lust of gold, in the case of the best men it was a rivalry for office and
reputation, by which it had often happened that the most violent enmity had arisen between
the closest friends.
Again, wide breaches and, for the most part, justifiable ones were caused by an immoral
request being made of friends, to pander to a man's unholy desires or to assist him in
inflicting a wrong. A refusal, though perfectly right, is attacked by those to whom they
refuse compliance as a violation of the laws of friendship. Now the people who have no
scruples as to the requests they make to their friends, thereby allow that they are ready
to have no scruples as to what they will do for their friends; and it is the
recriminations of such people which commonly not only quench friendships, but give rise to
lasting enmities. "In fact," he used to say, "these fatalities overhang
friendship in such numbers that it requires not only wisdom but good luck also to escape
them all."
11. With these premises, then, let us first, if you please, examine the question - how
far ought personal feeling to go in friendship? For instance: suppose Coriolanus to have
had friends, ought they to have joined him in invading his country? Again, in the case of
Vecellinus or Spurius Maelius, ought their friends to have assisted them in their attempt
to establish a tyranny? Take two instances of either line of conduct. When Tiberius
Gracchus attempted his revolutionary measures he was deserted, as we saw, by Quintus
Tubero and the friends of his own standing. On the other hand, a friend of your own
family, Scaevola, Gaius Blossius of Cumae, took a different course. I was acting as
assessor to the consuls Laenas and Rupilius to try the conspirators, and Blossius pleaded
for my pardon on the ground that his regard for Tiberius Gracchus had been so high that he
looked upon his wishes as law. "Even if he had wished you to set fire to the
Capitol?" said I. "That is a thing," he replied, "that he never would
have wished." "Ah, but if he had wished it?" said I. "I would have
obeyed." The wickedness of such a speech needs no comment. And in point of fact he
was as good and better than his word; for he did not wait for orders in the audacious
proceedings of Tiberius Gracchus, but was the head and front of them, and was a leader
rather than an abettor of his madness. The result of his infatuation was that he fled to
Asia, terrified by the special commission appointed to try him, joined the enemies of his
country, and paid a penalty to the republic as heavy as it was deserved. I conclude, then,
that the plea of having acted in the interests of a friend is not a valid excuse for a
wrong action. For, seeing that a belief in a man's virtue is the original cause of
friendship, friendship can hardly remain if virtue be abandoned. But if we decide it to be
right to grant our friends whatever they wish, and to ask them for whatever we wish,
perfect wisdom must be assumed on both sides if no mischief is to happen. But we cannot
assume this perfect wisdom; for we are speaking only of such friends as are ordinarily to
be met with, whether we have actually seen them or have been told about them - men, that
is to say, of everyday life. I must quote some examples of such persons, taking care to
select such as approach nearest to our standard of wisdom. We read, for instance, that
Papus Aemilius was a close friend of Gaius Luscinus. History tells us that they were twice
consuls together, and colleagues in the censorship. Again, it is on record that Manius
Curius and Tiberius Coruncanius were on the most intimate terms with them and with each
other. Now, we cannot even suspect that any one of these men ever asked of his friend
anything that militated against his honour or his oath or the interests of the republic.
In the case of such men as these there is no point in saying that one of them would not
have obtained such a request if he had made it; for they were men of the most scrupulous
piety, and the making of such a request would involve a breach of religious obligation no
less than the granting it. However, it is quite true that Gaius Carbo and Gaius Cato did
follow Tiberius Gracchus; and though his brother Gaius Gracchus did not do so at the time,
he is now the most eager of them all.
12. We may then lay down this rule of friendship - neither ask nor consent to do what
is wrong. For the plea "for friendship's sake" is a discreditable one, and not
to be admitted for a moment. This rule holds good for all wrong-doing, but more especially
in such as involves disloyalty to the republic. For things have come to such a point with
us, my dear Fannius and Scaevola, that we are bound to look somewhat far ahead to what is
likely to happen to the republic. The constitution, as known to our ancestors, has already
swerved somewhat from the regular course and the lines marked out for it. Tiberius
Gracchus made an attempt to obtain the power of a king, or, I might rather say, enjoyed
that power for a few months. Had the Roman people ever heard or seen the like before? What
the friends and connexions that followed him, even after his death, have succeeded in
doing in the case of Publius Scipio I cannot describe without tears. As for Carbo, thanks
to the punishment recently inflicted on Tiberius Gracchus, we have by hook or by crook
managed to hold out against his attacks. But what to expect of the tribuneship of Gaius
Gracchus I do not like to forecast. One thing leads to another; and once set going, the
downward course proceeds with ever-increasing velocity. There is the case of the ballot:
what a blow was inflicted first by the lex Gabinia, and two years afterwards by the lex
Cassia! I seem already to see the people estranged from the Senate, and the most important
affairs at the mercy of the multitude. For you may be sure that more people will learn how
to set such things in motion than how to stop them. What is the point of these remarks?
This: no one ever makes any attempt of this sort without friends to help him. We must
therefore impress upon good men that, should they become inevitably involved in
friendships with men of this kind, they ought not to consider themselves under any
obligation to stand by friends who are disloyal to the republic. Bad men must have the
fear of punishment before their eyes: a punishment not less severe for those who follow
than for those who lead others to crime. Who was more famous and powerful in Greece than
Themistocles? At the head of the army in the Persian war he had freed Greece; he owed his
exile to personal envy: but he did not submit to the wrong done him by his ungrateful
country as he ought to have done. He acted as Coriolanus had acted among us twenty years
before. But no one was found to help them in their attacks upon their fatherland. Both of
them accordingly committed suicide.
We conclude, then, not only that no such confederation of evilly disposed men must be
allowed to shelter itself under the plea of friendship, but that, on the contrary, it must
be visited with the severest punishment, lest the idea should prevail that fidelity to a
friend justifies even making war upon one's country. And this is a case which I am
inclined to think, considering how things are beginning to go, will sooner or later arise.
And I care quite as much what the state of the constitution will be after my death as what
it is now.
13. Let this, then, be laid down as the first law of friendship, that we should ask
from friends, and do for friends, only what is good. But do not let us wait to be asked
either: let there be ever an eager readiness, and an absence of hesitation. Let us have
the courage to give advice with candour. In friendship, let the influence of friends who
give good advice be paramount; and let this influence be used to enforce advice not only
in plain-spoken terms, but sometimes, if the case demands it, with sharpness; and when so
used, let it be obeyed.
I give you these rules because I believe that some wonderful opinions are entertained
by certain persons who have, I am told, a reputation for wisdom in Greece. There is
nothing in the world, by the way, beyond the reach of their sophistry. Well, some of them
teach that we should avoid very close friendships, for fear that one man should have to
endure the anxieties of several. Each man, say they, has enough and to spare on his own
hands; it is too bad to be involved in the cares of other people. The wisest course is to
hold the reins of friendship as loose as possible; you can then tighten or slacken them at
your will. For the first condition of a happy life is freedom from care, which no one's
mind can enjoy if it has to travail, so to speak, for others besides itself. Another sect,
I am told, gives vent to opinions still less generous. I briefly touched on this subject
just now. They affirm that friendships should be sought solely for the sake of the
assistance they give, and not at all from motives of feeling and affection; and that
therefore just in proportion as a man's power and means of support are lowest, he is most
eager to gain friendships: thence it comes that weak women seek the support of friendship
more than men, the poor more than the rich, the unfortunate rather than those esteemed
prosperous. What noble philosophy! You might just as well take the sun out of the sky as
friendship from life; for the immortal gods have given us nothing better or more
delightful.
But let us examine the two doctrines. What is the value of this "freedom from
care"? It is very tempting at first sight, but in practice it has in many cases to be
put on one side. For there is no business and no course of action demanded from us by our
honour which you can consistently decline, or lay aside when begun, from a mere wish to
escape from anxiety. Nay, if we wish to avoid anxiety we must avoid virtue itself, which
necessarily involves some anxious thoughts in showing its loathing and abhorrence for the
qualities which are opposite to itself - as kindness for ill nature, self-control for
licentiousness, courage for cowardice. Thus you may notice that it is the just who are
most pained at injustice, the brave at cowardly actions, the temperate at depravity. It is
then characteristic of a rightly ordered mind to be pleased at what is good and grieved at
the reverse. Seeing then that the wise are not exempt from the heart-ache (which must be
the case unless we suppose all human nature rooted out of their hearts), why should we
banish friendship from our lives, for fear of being involved by it in some amount of
distress? If you take away emotion, what difference remains I don't say between a man and
a beast, but between a man and a stone or a log of wood, or anything else of that kind?
Neither should we give any weight to the doctrine that virtue is something rigid and
unyielding as iron. In point of fact it is in regard to friendship, as in so many other
things, so supple and sensitive that it expands, so to speak, at a friend's good fortune,
contracts at his misfortunes. We conclude then that mental pain which we must often
encounter on a friend's account is not of sufficient consequence to banish friendship from
our life, any more than it is true that the cardinal virtues are to be dispensed with
because they involve certain anxieties and distresses.
14. Let me repeat then, "the clear indication of virtue, to which a mind of like
character is naturally attracted, is the beginning of friendship." When that is the
case the rise of affection is a necessity. For what can be more irrational than to take
delight in many objects incapable of response, such as office, fame, splendid buildings,
and personal decoration, and yet to take little or none in a sentient being endowed with
virtue, which has the faculty of loving or, if I may use the expression, loving back? For
nothing is really more delightful than a return of affection, and the mutual interchange
of kind feeling and good offices. And if we add, as we may fairly do, that nothing so
powerfully attracts and draws one thing to itself as likeness does to friendship, it will
at once be admitted to be true that the good love the good and attach them to themselves
as though they were united by blood and nature. For nothing can be more eager, or rather
greedy, for what is like itself than nature. So, my dear Fannius and Scaevola, we may look
upon this as an established fact, that between good men there is, as it were of necessity,
a kindly feeling, which is the source of friendship ordained by nature. But this same
kindliness affects the many also. For that is no unsympathetic or selfish or exclusive
virtue, which protects even whole nations and consults their best interests. And that
certainly it would not have done had it disdained all affection for the common herd.
Again, the believers in the "interest" theory appear to me to destroy the
most attractive link in the chain of friendship. For it is not so much what one gets by a
friend that gives one pleasure, as the warmth of his feeling; and we only care for a
friend's service if it has been prompted by affection. And so far from its being true that
lack of means is a motive for seeking friendship, it is usually those who, being most
richly endowed with wealth and means, and above all with virtue (which, after all, is a
man's best support), are least in need of another, that are most open-handed and
beneficent. Indeed I am inclined to think that friends ought at times to be in want of
something. For instance, what scope would my affections have had if Scipio had never
wanted my advice or co-operation at home or abroad? It is not friendship, then, that
follows material advantage, but material advantage friendship.
15. We must not therefore listen to these superfine gentlemen when they talk of
friendship, which they know neither in theory nor in practice. For who, in heaven's name,
would choose a life of the greatest wealth and abundance on condition of neither loving or
being be loved by any creature? That is the sort of life tyrants endure. They, of course,
can count on no fidelity, no affection, no security for the good will of any one. For them
all is suspicion and anxiety; for them their is no possibility of friendship. Who can love
one whom he fears, or by whom he knows that he is feared? Yet such men have a show of
friendship offered them, but it is only a fair-weather show. If it ever happen that they
fall, as it generally does, they will at once understand how friendless they are. So they
say Tarquin observed in his exile that he never knew which of his friends were real and
which sham, until he had ceased to be able to repay either. Though what surprises me is
that a man of his proud and overbearing character should have a friend at all. And as it
was his character that prevented his having genuine friends, so it often happens in the
case of men of unusually great means - their very wealth forbids faithful friendships. For
not only is Fortune blind herself; but she generally makes those blind also who enjoy her
favours. They are carried, so to speak, beyond themselves with self-conceit and self-will;
nor can anything be more perfectly intolerable than a successful fool. You may often see
it. Men who before had pleasant manners enough undergo a complete change on attaining
power of office. They despise their old friends: devote themselves to new.
Now, can anything be more foolish than that men who have all the opportunities which
prosperity, wealth, and great means can bestow, should secure all else which money can buy
- horses, servants, splendid upholstering, and costly plate - but do not secure friends,
who are, if I may use the expression, the most valuable and beautiful furniture of life?
And yet, when they acquire the former, they know not who will enjoy them, nor for whom
they may be taking all this trouble; for they will one and all eventually belong to the
strongest: while each man has a stable and inalienable ownership in his friendships. And
even if those possessions, which are, in a manner, the gifts of fortune, do prove
permanent, life can never be anything but joyless which is without the consolations and
companionship of friends.
16. To turn to another branch of our subject: We must now endeavour to ascertain what
limits are to be observed in friendship - what is the boundary-line, so to speak, beyond
which our affection is not to go. On this point I notice three opinions, with none of
which I agree. One is that we should love our friend just as much as we love ourselves,
and no more; another, that our affection to friends, should exactly correspond and equal
theirs to us; a third, that a man should be valued at exactly the same rate as he values
himself. To not one of these opinions do I assent. The first, which holds that our regard
for ourselves is to be the measure of our regard for our friend, is not true; for how many
things there are which we would never have done for our own sakes, but do for the sake of
a friend! We submit to make requests from unworthy people, to descend even to
supplication; to be sharper in invective, more violent in attack. Such actions are not
creditable in our own interests, but highly so in those of our friends. There are many
advantages too which men of upright character voluntarily forgo, or of which they are
content to be deprived, that their friends may enjoy them rather than themselves.
The second doctrine is that which limits friendship to an exact equality in mutual good
offices and good feelings. But such a view reduces friendship to a question of figures in
a spirit far too narrow and illiberal, as though the object were to have an exact balance
in a debtor and creditor account. True friendship appears to me to be something richer and
more generous than that comes to; and not to be so narrowly on its guard against giving
more than it receives. In such a matter we must not be always afraid of something being
wasted or running over in our measure, or of more than is justly due being devoted to our
friendship.
But the last limit proposed is the worst, namely, that a friend's estimate of himself
is to be the measure of our estimate of him. It often happens that a man has too humble an
idea of himself, or takes too despairing a view of his chance of bettering his fortune. In
such a case a friend ought not to take the view of him which he takes of himself. Rather
he should do all he can to raise his drooping spirits, and lead him to more cheerful hopes
and thoughts.
We must then find some other limit. But I must first mention the sentiment which used
to call forth Scipio's severest criticism. He often said that no one ever gave utterance
to anything more diametrically opposed to the spirit of friendship than the author of the
dictum, "You should love your friend with the consciousness that you may one day hate
him." He could not be induced to believe that it was rightfully attributed to Bias,
who was counted as one of the Seven Sages. It was the sentiment of some person with
sinister motives or selfish ambition, or who regarded everything as it affected his own
supremacy. How can a man be friends with another, if he thinks it possible that he may be
his enemy? Why, it will follow that he must wish and desire his friend to commit as many
mistakes as possible, that he may have all the more handles against him; and, conversely,
that he must be annoyed, irritated, and jealous at the right actions or good fortune of
his friends. This maxim, then, let it be whose it will, is the utter destruction of
friendship. The true rule is to take such care in the selection of our friends as never to
enter upon a friendship with a man whom we could under any circumstances come to hate. And
even if we are unlucky in our choice, we must put up with it - according to Scipio - in
preference to making calculations as to a future breach.
17. The real limit to be observed in friendship is this: the characters of two friends
must be stainless. There must be complete harmony of interests, purpose, and aims, without
exception. Then if the case arises of a friend's wish (not strictly right in itself)
calling for support in a matter involving his life or reputation, we must make some
concession from the straight path on condition, that is to say, that extreme disgrace is
not the consequence. Something must be conceded to friendship. And yet we must not be
entirely careless of our reputation, nor regard the good opinion of our fellow-citizens as
a weapon which we can afford to despise in conducting the business of our life, however
lowering it may be to tout for it by flattery and smooth words. We must by no means abjure
virtue, which secures us affection.
But to return again to Scipio, the sole author of the discourse on friendship: He used
to complain that there was nothing on which men bestowed so little pains: that every one
could tell exactly how many goats or sheep he had, but not how many friends; and while
they took pains in procuring the former, they were utterly careless in selecting friends,
and possessed no particular marks, so to speak, or tokens by which they might judge of
their suitability for friendship. Now the qualities we ought to look out for in making our
selection are firmness, stability, constancy. There is a plentiful lack of men so endowed,
and it is difficult to form a judgment without testing. Now this testing can only be made
during the actual existence of the friendship; for friendship so often precedes the
formation of a judgment, and makes a previous test impossible. If we are prudent then, we
shall rein in our impulse to affection as we do chariot horses. We make a preliminary
trial of horses. So we should of friendship; and should test our friends' characters by a
kind of tentative friendship. It may often happen that the untrustworthiness of certain
men is completely displayed in a small money matter; others who are proof against a small
sum are detected if it be large. But even if some are found who think it mean to prefer
money to friendship, where shall we look for those who put friendship before office, civil
or military promotions, and political power, and who, when the choice lies between these
things on the one side and the claims of friendship on the other, do not give a strong
preference to the former? It is not in human nature to be indifferent to political power;
and if the price men have to pay for it is the sacrifice of friendship, they think their
treason will be thrown into the shade by the magnitude of the reward. This is why true
friendship is very difficult to find among those who engage in politics and the contest
for office. Where can you find the man to prefer his friend's advancement to his own? And
to say nothing of that, think how grievous and almost intolerable it is to most men to
share political disaster. You will scarcely find any one who can bring himself to do that.
And though what Ennius says is quite true, - "the hour of need shews the friend
indeed," - yet it is in these two ways that most people betray their
untrustworthiness and inconstancy, by looking down on friends when they are themselves
prosperous, or deserting them in their distress. A man, then, who has shewn a firm,
unshaken, and unvarying friendship in both these contingencies we must reckon as one of a
class the rarest in the world, and all but superhuman.
Part III
18. Now what is the quality to look out for as a warrant for the stability and
permanence of friendship? It is loyalty. Nothing that lacks this can be stable. We should
also in making our selection look out for simplicity, a social disposition, and a
sympathetic nature, moved by what moves us. These all contribute to maintain loyalty. You
can never trust a character which is intricate and tortuous. Nor, indeed, is it possible
for one to be trustworthy and firm who is unsympathetic by nature and unmoved by what
affects ourselves. We may add, that he must neither take pleasure in bringing accusations
against us himself, nor believe them when they are brought. All these contribute to form
that constancy which I have been endeavouring to describe. And the result is, what I
started by saying, that friendship is only possible between good men.
Now there are two characteristic features in his treatment of his friends that a good
(which may be regarded as equivalent to a wise) man will always display. First, he will be
entirely without any make-believe or pretence of feeling; for the open display even of
dislike is more becoming to an ingenuous character than a studied concealment of
sentiment. Secondly, he will not only reject all accusations brought against his friend by
another, but we will not be suspicious himself either, nor be always thinking that his
friend has acted improperly. Besides this, there should be a certain pleasantness in word
and manner which adds no little flavour to friendship. A gloomy temper and unvarying
gravity may be very impressive; but friendship should be a little less unbending, more
indulgent and gracious, and more inclined to all kinds of good-fellowship and good nature.
19. But here arises a question of some little difficulty. Are there any occasions on
which, assuming their worthiness, we should prefer new to old friends, just as we prefer
young to aged horses? The answer admits of no doubt whatever. For there should be no
satiety in friendship, as there is in other things. The older the sweeter, as in wines
that keep well. And the proverb is a true one, "You must eat many a peck of salt with
a man to be thorough friends with him." Novelty, indeed, has its advantage, which we
must not despise. There is always hope of fruit, as there is in healthy blades of corn.
But age too must have its proper position; and, in fact, the influence of time and habit
is very great. To recur to the illustration of the horse which I have just now used: Every
one likes ceteris paribus to use the horse to which he has been accustomed, rather than
one that is untried and new. And it is not only in the case of a living thing that this
rule holds good, but in inanimate things also; for we like places where we have lived the
longest, even though they are mountainous and covered with forest. But here is another
golden rule in friendship: put yourself on a level with your friend. For it often happens
that there are certain superiorities, as for example Scipio's in what I may call our set.
Now he never assumed any airs of superiority over Philus, or Rupilius, or Mummius, or over
friends of a lower rank still. For instance, he always shewed a deference to his brother
Quintus Maximus because he was his senior, who, though a man no doubt of eminent
character, was by no means his equal. He used also to wish that all his friends should be
the better for his support. This is an example we should all follow. If any of us have any
advantage in personal character, intellect, or fortune, we should be ready to make our
friends sharers and partners in it with ourselves. For instance, if their parents are in
humble circumstances, if their relations are powerful neither in intellect nor means, we
should supply their deficiencies and promote their rank and dignity.
You know the legends of children brought up as servants in ignorance of their parentage
and family. When they are recognised and discovered to be the sons of gods or kings, they
still retain their affection for the shepherds whom they have for many years looked upon
as their parents. Much more ought this to be so in the case of real and undoubted parents.
For the advantages of genius and virtue, and in short of every kind of superiority, are
never realised to their fullest extent until they are bestowed upon our nearest and
dearest.
20. But the converse must also be observed. For in friendship and relationship, just as
those who possess any superiority must put themselves on an equal footing with those who
are less fortunate, so these latter must not be annoyed at being surpassed in genius,
fortune, or rank. But most people of that sort are for ever either grumbling at something,
or harping on their claims; and especially if they consider that they have services of
their own to allege involving zeal and friendship and some trouble to themselves. People
who are always bringing up their services are a nuisance. The recipient ought to remember
them; the performer should never mention them. In the case of friends, then, as the
superior are bound to descend, so are they bound in a certain sense to raise those below
them. For there are people who make their friendship disagreeable by imagining themselves
undervalued. This generally happens only to those who think that they deserve to be so;
and they ought to be shewn by deeds as well as by words the groundlessness of their
opinion. Now the measure of your benefits should be in the first place your own power to
bestow, and in the second place the capacity to bear them on the part of him on whom you
are bestowing affection and help. For, however great your personal prestige may be, you
cannot raise all your friends to the highest offices of the State. For instance, Scipio
was able to make Publius Rupilius consul, but not his brother Lucius. But granting that
you can give any one anything you choose, you must have a care that it does not prove to
be beyond his powers.
As a general rule, we must wait to make up our mind about friendships till men's
characters and years have arrived at their full strength and development. People must not,
for instance, regard as fast friends all whom in their youthful enthusiasm for hunting or
football they liked for having the same tastes. By that rule, if it were a mere question
of time, no one would have such claims on our affections as nurses and slave-tutors. Not
that they are to be neglected, but they stand on a different ground. It is only these
mature friendships that can be permanent. For difference of character leads to difference
of aims, and the result of such diversity is to estrange friends. The sole reason, for
instance, which prevents good men from making friends with bad, or bad with good, is that
the divergence of their characters and aims is the greatest possible.
Another good rule in friendship is this: do not let an excessive affection hinder the
highest interests of your friends. This very often happens. I will go again to the region
of fable for an instance. Neoptolemus could never have taken Troy if he had been willing
to listen to Lycomedes, who had brought him up, and with many tears tried to prevent his
going there. Again, it often happens that important business makes it necessary to part
from friends: the man who tries to baulk it, because he thinks that he cannot endure the
separation, is of a weak and effeminate nature, and on that very account makes but a poor
friend. There are, of course, limits to what you ought to expect from a friend and to what
you should allow him to demand of you. And these you must take into calculation in every
case.
21. Again, there is such a disaster, so to speak, as having to break off friendship.
And sometimes it is one we cannot avoid. For at this point the stream of our discourse is
leaving the intimacies of the wise and touching on the friendship of ordinary people. It
will happen at times that an outbreak of vicious conduct affects either a man's friends
themselves or strangers, yet the discredit falls on the friends. In such cases friendships
should be allowed to die out gradually by an intermission of intercourse. They should, as
I have been told that Cato used to say, rather be unstitched than torn in twain; unless,
indeed, the injurious conduct be of so violent and outrageous a nature as to make an
instance breach and separation the only possible course consistent with honour and
rectitude. Again, if a change in character and aim takes place, as often happens, or if
party politics produces an alienation of feeling (I am now speaking, as I said a short
time ago, of ordinary friendships, not of those of the wise), we shall have to be on our
guard against appearing to embark upon active enmity while we only mean to resign a
friendship. For there can be nothing more discreditable than to be at open war with a man
with whom you have been intimate. Scipio, as you are aware, had abandoned his friendship
for Quintus Pompeius on my account; and again, from differences of opinion in politics, he
became estranged from my colleague Metellus. In both cases he acted with dignity and
moderation, shewing that he was offended indeed, but without rancour.
Our first object, then, should be to prevent a breach; our second, to secure that, if
it does occur, our friendship should seem to have died a natural rather than a violent
death. Next, we should take care that friendship is not converted into active hostility,
from which flow personal quarrels, abusive language, and angry recriminations. These last,
however, provided that they do not pass all reasonable limits of forbearance, we ought to
put up with, and, in compliment to an old friendship, allow the party that inflicts the
injury, not the one that submits to it, to be in the wrong. Generally speaking, there is
but one way of securing and providing oneself against faults and inconveniences of this
sort - not to be too hasty in bestowing our affection, and not to bestow it at all on
unworthy objects.
Now, by "worthy of friendship" I mean those who have in themselves the
qualities which attract affection. This sort of man is rare; and indeed all excellent
things are rare; and nothing in the world is so hard to find as a thing entirely and
completely perfect of its kind. But most people not only recognise nothing as good in our
life unless it is profitable, but look upon friends as so much stock, caring most for
those by whom they hope to make most profit. Accordingly they never possess that most
beautiful and most spontaneous friendship which must be sought solely for itself without
any ulterior object. They fail also to learn from their own feelings the nature and the
strength of friendship. For every one loves himself, not for any reward which such love
may bring, but because he is dear to himself independently of anything else. But unless
this feeling is transferred to another, what a real friend is will never be revealed; for
he is, as it were, a second self. But if we find these two instincts shewing themselves in
animals, - whether of the air or the sea or the land, whether wild or tame, first, a love
of self, which in fact is born in everything that lives alike; and, secondly, an eagerness
to find and attach themselves to other creatures of their own kind; and if this natural
action is accompanied by desire and by something resembling human love, how much more must
this be the case in man by the law of his nature? For man not only loves himself, but
seeks another whose spirit he may so blend with his own as almost to make one being of
two.
22. But most people unreasonably, not to speak of modesty, want such a friend as they
are unable to be themselves, and expect from their friends what they do not themselves
give. The fair course is first to be good yourself, and then to look out for another of
like character. It is between such that the stability in friendship of which we have been
talking can be secured; when, that is to say, men who are united by affection learn, first
of all, to rule those passions which enslave others, and in the next place to take delight
in fair and equitable conduct, to bear each other's burdens, never to ask each other for
anything inconsistent with virtue and rectitude, and not only to serve and love but also
to respect each other. I say "respect"; for if respect is gone, friendship has
lost its brightest jewel. And this shews the mistake of those who imagine that friendship
gives a privilege to licentiousness and sin. Nature has given us friendship as the
handmaid of virtue, not as a partner in guilt: to the end that virtue, being powerless
when isolated to reach the highest objects, might succeed in doing so in union and
partnership with another. Those who enjoy in the present, or have enjoyed in the past, or
are destined to enjoy in the future such a partnership as this, must be considered to have
secured the most excellent and auspicious combination for reaching nature's highest good.
This is the partnership, I say, which combines moral rectitude, fame, peace of mind,
serenity: all that men think desirable because with them life is happy, but without them
cannot be so. This being our best and highest object, we must, if we desire to attain it,
devote ourselves to virtue; for without virtue we can obtain neither friendship nor
anything else desirable. In fact, if virtue be neglected, those who imagine themselves to
possess friends will find out their error as soon as some grave disaster forces them to
make trial of them. Wherefore, I must again and again repeat, you must satisfy your
judgment before engaging your affections: not love first and judge afterwards. We suffer
from carelessness in many of our undertakings: in none more than in selecting and
cultivating our friends. We put the cart before the horse, and shut the stable door when
the steed is stolen, in defiance of the old proverb. For, having mutually involved
ourselves in a long-standing intimacy or by actual obligations, all on a sudden some cause
of offence arises and we break off our friendships in full career.
23. It is this that makes such carelessness in a matter of supreme importance all the
more worthy of blame. I say "supreme importance," because friendship is the one
thing about the utility of which everybody with one accord is agreed. That is not the case
in regard even to virtue itself; for many people speak slightingly of virtue as though it
were mere puffing and self-glorification. Nor is it the case with riches. Many look down
on riches, being content with a little and taking pleasure in poor fare and dress. And as
to the political offices for which some have a burning desire - how many entertain such a
contempt for them as to think nothing in the world more empty and trivia!
And so on with the rest; things desirable in the eyes of some are regarded by very many
as worthless. But of friendship all think alike to a man, whether those who have devoted
themselves to politics, or those who delight in science and philosophy, or those who
follow a private way of life and care for nothing by their own business, or those lastly
who have given themselves body and soul to sensuality - they all think, I say, that
without friendship life is no life, if they want some part of it, at any rate, to be
noble. For friendship, in one way or another, penetrates into the lives of us all, and
suffers no career to be entirely free from its influence. Though a man be of so churlish
and unsociable a nature as to loathe and shun the company of mankind, as we are told was
the case with a certain Timon at Athens, yet even he cannot refrain from seeking some one
in whose hearing he may disgorge the venom of his bitter temper. We should see this most
clearly, if it were possible that some god should carry us away from these haunts of men,
and place us somewhere in perfect solitude, and then should supply us in abundance with
everything necessary to our nature, and yet take from us entirely the opportunity of
looking upon a human being. Who could steel himself to endure such a life? Who would not
lose in his loneliness the zest for all pleasures? And indeed this is the point of the
observation of, I think, Archytas of Tarentum. I have it third hand; men who were my
seniors told me that their seniors had told them. It was this: "If a man could ascend
to heaven and get a clear view of the natural order of the universe, and the beauty of the
heavenly bodies, that wonderful spectacle would give him small pleasure, though nothing
could be conceived more delightful if he had but had some one to whom to tell what he had
seen." So true it is that Nature abhors isolation, and ever leans upon something as a
stay and support; and this is found in its most pleasing form in our closest friend.
24. But though Nature also declares by so many indications what her wish and object and
desire is, we yet in a manner turn a deaf ear and will not hear her warnings. The
intercourse between friends is varied and complex, and it must often happen that causes of
suspicion and offence arise, which a wise man will sometimes avoid, at other times remove,
at others treat with indulgence. The one possible cause of offense that must be faced is
when the interests of your friend and your own sincerity are at stake. For instance, it
often happens that friends need remonstrance and even reproof. When these are administered
in a kindly spirit they ought to be taken in good part. But somehow or other there is
truth in what my friend Terence says in his Andria:
Compliance gets us friends, plain speaking hate.
Plain speaking is a cause of trouble, if the result of it is resentment, which is
poison of friendship; but compliance is really the cause of much more trouble, because by
indulging his faults it lets a friend plunge into headlong ruin. But the man who is most
to blame is he who resents plain speaking and allows flattery to egg him on to his ruin.
On this point, then, from first to last there is need of deliberation and care. If we
remonstrate, it should be without bitterness; if we reprove, there should be no word of
insult. In the matter of compliance (for I am glad to adopt Terence's word), though there
should be every courtesy, yet that base kind which assists a man in vice should be far
from us, for it is unworthy of a free-born man, to say nothing of a friend. It is one
thing to live with a tyrant, another with a friend. But if a man's ears are so closed to
plain speaking that he cannot bear to hear the truth from a friend, we may give him up in
despair. This remark of Cato's, as so many of his did, shews great acuteness: "There
are people who owe more to bitter enemies than to apparently pleasant friends: the former
often speak the truth, the latter never." Besides, it is a strange paradox that the
recipients of advice should feel no annoyance where they ought to feel it, and yet feel so
much where they ought not. They are not at all vexed at having committed a fault, but very
angry at being reproved for it. On the contrary, they ought to be grieved at the crime and
glad of the correction.
25. Well, then, if it is true that to give and receive advice - the former with freedom
and yet without bitterness, the latter with patience and without irritation - is
peculiarly appropriate to genuine friendship, it is no less true that there can be nothing
more utterly subversive of friendship than flattery, adulation, and base compliance. I use
as many terms as possible to brand this vice of light-minded, untrustworthy men, whose
sole object in speaking is to please without any regard to truth. In everything false
pretence is bad, for it suspends and vitiates our power of discerning the truth. But to
nothing is it so hostile as to friendship; for it destroys that frankness without which
friendship is an empty name. For the essence of friendship being that two minds become as
one, how can that ever take place if the mind of each of the separate parties to it is not
single and uniform, but variable, changeable, and complex? Can anything be so pliable, so
wavering, as the mind of a man whose attitude depends not only on another's feeling and
wish, but on his very looks and nods?
If one says "No," I answer "No"; if "Yes," I answer
"Yes." In fine, I've laid this task upon myself, To echo all that's said
to quote my old friend Terence again. But he puts these words into the mouth of a
Gnatho. To admit such a man into one's intimacy at all is a sign of folly. But there are
many people like Gnatho, and it is when they are superior either in position or fortune or
reputation that their flatteries become mischievous, the weight of their position making
up for the lightness of their character. But if we only take reasonable care, it is as
easy to separate and distinguish a genuine from a specious friend as anything else that is
coloured and artificial from what is sincere and genuine. A public assembly, though
composed of men of the smallest possible culture, nevertheless will see clearly the
difference between a mere demagogue (that is, a flatterer and untrustworthy citizen) and a
man of principle, standing, and solidity. It was by this kind of flattering language that
Gaius Papirius the other day endeavoured to tickle the ears of the assembled people, when
proposing his law to make the tribues re-eligible. I spoke against it. But I will leave
the personal question. I prefer speaking of Scipio. Good heavens! how impressive his
speech was, what a majesty there was in it! You would have pronounced him, without
hesitation, to be no mere henchman of the Roman people, but their leader. However, you
were there, and moreover have the speech in your hands. The result was that a law meant to
please the people was by the people's votes rejected. Once more to refer to myself, you
remember how apparently popular was the law proposed by Gaius Licinius Crassus "about
the election to the College of Priests" in the consulship of Quintus Maximus,
Scipio's brother, and Lucius Mancinus. For the power of filling up their own vacancies on
the part of the colleges was by this proposal to be transferred to the people. It was this
man, by the way, who began to practice of turning towards the forum when addressing the
people. In spite of this, however, upon my speaking on the conservative side, religion
gained an easy victory over his plausible speech. This took place in my praetorship, five
years before I was elected consul, which shows that the cause was successfully maintained
more by the merits of the case than by the prestige of the highest office.
26. Now, if on a stage, such as a public assembly essentially is, where there is the
amplest room for fiction and half-truths, truth nevertheless prevails if it be but fairly
laid open and brought into the light of day, what ought to happen in the case of
friendship, which rests entirely on truthfulness? Friendship, in which, unless you both
see and shew an open breast, to use a common expression, you can neither trust nor be
certain of anything - no, not even of mutual affection, since you cannot be sure of its
sincerity. However, this flattery, injurious as it is, can hurt no one but the man who
takes it in and likes it. And it follows that the man to open his ears widest to
flatterers is he who first flatters himself and is fondest of himself. I grant you that
Virtue naturally loves herself; for she knows herself and perceives how worthy of love she
is. But I am not now speaking of absolute virtue, but of the belief men have that they
possess virtue. The fact is that fewer people are endowed with virtue than wish to be
thought to be so. It is such people that take delight in flattery. When they are addressed
in language expressly adapted to flatter their vanity, they look upon such empty
persiflage as a testimony to the truth of their own praises. It is not then properly
friendship at all when the one will not listen to the truth, and the other is prepared to
lie. Nor would the servility of parasites in comedy have seemed humorous to us had there
been no such things as braggart captains. "Is Thais really much obliged to me?"
It would have been quite enough to answer "Much," but he must needs say
"Immensely." Your servile flatterer always exaggerates what his victim wishes to
be put strongly. Wherefore, though it is with those who catch at and invite it that this
flattering falsehood is especially powerful, yet men even of solider and steadier
character must be warned to be on the watch against being taken in by cunningly disguised
flattery. An open flatterer any one can detect, unless he is an absolute fool: the covert
insinuation of the cunning and the sly is what we have to be studiously on our guard
against. His detection is not by any means the easiest thing in the world, for he often
covers his servility under the guise of contradiction, and flatters by pretending to
dispute, and then at last giving in and allowing himself to be beaten, that the person
hoodwinked may think himself to have been the clearer-sighted. Now what can be more
degrading than to be thus hoodwinked? You must be on your guard against this happening to
you, like the man in the Heiress:
How have I been befooled! no drivelling dotards On any stage were e'er so played upon.
For even on the stage we have no grosser representation of folly than that of
short-sighted and credulous old men. But somehow or other I have strayed away from the
friendship of the perfect, that is, of the "wise" (meaning, of course, such
"wisdom" as human nature is capable of), to the subject of vulgar, unsubstantial
friendships. Let us then return to our original theme, and at length bring that, too, to a
conclusion.
27. Well, then, Fannius and Mucius, I repeat what I said before. It is virtue, virtue,
which both creates and preserves friendship. On it depends harmony of interest,
permanence, fidelity. When Virtue has reared her head and shewn the light of her
countenance, and seen and recognised the same light in another, she gravitates towards it,
and in her turn welcomes that which the other has to shew; and from it springs up a flame
which you may call love or friendship as you please. Both words are from the same root in
Latin; and love is just the cleaving to him whom you love without the prompting of need or
any view to advantage - though this latter blossoms spontaneously on friendship, little as
you may have looked for it. It is with such warmth of feeling that I cherished Lucius
Paulus, Marcus Cato, Gaius Gallus, Publius Nasica, Tiberius Gracchus, my dear Scipio's
father-in-law. It shines with even greater warmth when men are of the same age, as in the
case of Scipio and Lucius Furius, Publius Rupilius, Spurius Mummius, and myself. En
revanche, in my old age I find comfort in the affection of young men, as in the case of
yourselves and Quintus Tubero: nay more, I delight in the intimacy of such a very young
man as Publius Rutilius and Aulus Verginius. And since the law of our nature and of our
life is that a new generation is for ever springing up, the most desirable thing is that
along with your contemporaries, with whom you started in the race, you may also reach what
is to us the goal. But in view of the instability and perishableness of mortal things, we
should be continually on the look-out for some to love and by whom to be loved; for if we
lose affection and kindliness from our life, we lose all that gives it charm. For me,
indeed, though torn away by a sudden stroke, Scipio still lives and ever will live. For it
was the virtue of the man that I loved, and that has not suffered death. And it is not my
eyes only, because I had all my life a personal experience of it, that never lose sight of
it: it will shine to posterity also with undimmed glory. No one will ever cherish a nobler
ambition or a loftier hope without thinking his memory and his image the best to put
before his eyes. I declare that of all the blessings which either fortune or nature has
bestowed upon me I know none to compare with Scipio's friendship. In it I found sympathy
in public, counsel in private business; in it too a means of spending my leisure with
unalloyed delight. Never, to the best of my knowledge, did I offend him even in the most
trivial point; never did I hear a word from him I could have wished unsaid. We had one
house, one table, one style of living; and not only were we together on foreign service,
but in our tours also and country sojourns. Why speak of our eagerness to be ever gaining
some knowledge, to be ever learning something, on which we spent all our leisure hours far
from the gaze of the world? If the recollection and memory of these things had perished
with the man, I could not possibly have endured the regret for one so closely united with
me in life and affection. But these things have not perished; they are rather fed and
strengthened by reflexion and memory. Even supposing me to have been entirely bereft of
them, still my time of life of itself brings me no small consolation: for I cannot have
much longer now to bear this regret; and everything that is brief ought to be endurable,
however severe.
This is all I had to say on friendship. One piece of advice on parting. Make up your
minds to this: Virtue (without which friendship is impossible) is first; but next to it,
and to it alone, the greatest of all things is Friendship.
