translated by W. Melmoth
LAELIUS
TO TITUS POMPONIUS ATTICUS. -
QUINTUS MUCIUS, the Augur, used to relate, in a very agreeable manner, a variety of
particulars which he remembered concerning his father-in-law, the sage Laelius, as he
constantly styled him. My father introduced me to Mucius as soon as I was invested with
the manly robe, and he so strongly recommended him to my observance that I never neglected
any opportunity in my power of attending him. In consequence of this privilege I had the
advantage to hear him occasionally discuss several important topics, and throw out many
judicious maxims, which I carefully treasured up in my mind, endeavouring to improve
myself in wisdom and knowledge by the benefit of his enlightening observations. After his
death I attached myself in the same manner, and with the same views, to his relation,
Mucius Scaevola, the chief pontiff; and I will venture to say that, in regard both to the
powers of his mind and the integrity of his heart, Rome never produced a greater nor more
respectable character. But I shall take some other occasion to do justice to the merit of
this excellent man; my present business is solely with the Augur.
As I was one day sitting with him and two or three of his intimate acquaintance in his
semi-circular apartment where he usually received company, among several other points he
fell into discourse upon an event which had lately happened, and was, as you well know,
the general subject of conversation; for you cannot but remember (as you were much
connected with one of the parties) that when Publius Sulpicius was Tribune, and Quintus
Pompeius Consul, the implacable animosity that broke out between them, after having lived
together on the most affectionate terms, was universally mentioned with concern and
surprise. Mucius having casually touched upon this unexpected rupture, took occasion to
relate to us the substance of a conference which Laelius formerly held with him and his
other son-in-law, Caius Fannius, a few days after the death of Scipio Africanus, upon the
subject of Friendship. As I perfectly well recollect the general purport of the relation
he gave us, I have wrought it up, after my own manner, in the following essay. But that I
might not encumber the dialogue with perpetually interposing "said I" and
"said he," I have introduced the speakers themselves to the reader, by which
means he may consider himself as a sort of party in the conference.
It turns on a subject upon which you have frequently pressed me to write my thoughts,
and, indeed, besides being peculiarly suitable to that intimacy which has so long
subsisted between us, it is well worthy of being universally considered and understood. I
have the more willingly, therefore, entered into the discussion you recommended, as it
affords me an opportunity of rendering a general service at the same time that I am
complying with your particular request.
In the treatise I lately inscribed to you on Old Age, I represented the elder Cato as
the principal speaker, being persuaded that no person could, with more weight and
propriety, be introduced as delivering his ideas in relation to that advanced state than
one who had so long flourished in it with unequalled spirit and vigour. In pursuance of
the same principle, the memorable amity which, we are told, subsisted between Laelius and
Scipio rendered the former, I thought, a very suitable character to support a conversation
on the subject of Friendship, and the reasoning I have ascribed to him is agreeable to
those sentiments which Mucius informed us he expressed.
This kind of dialogue, where the question is agitated by illustrious personages of
former ages, is apt, I know not how, to make a stronger impression on the mind of the
reader than any other species of composition. This effect, at least, I have experienced in
my own writings of that kind, as I have sometimes imagined, when I was revising the essay
I lately inscribed to you, that Cato himself, and not your friend in his name, was the
real speaker. As in that performance it was one veteran addressing another on the article
of Old Age, so in the present it is a friend explaining to a friend his notions concerning
Friendship. In the former conference, Cato, who was distinguished among his contemporaries
by his great age and superior wisdom, stands forth as the principal speaker; in this which
I now present to you, Laelius, who was no less respected in the times in which he
flourished for his eminent virtues and faithful attachment to his friend, takes the lead
in the discourse. I must request you, therefore, to turn your thoughts a while from the
writer and suppose yourself conversing with Laelius.
For this purpose you are to imagine Fannius and Mucius making a visit to their
father-in-law soon after the death of Scipio Africanus, and from that circumstance giving
occasion to Laelius to enter upon the subject in question. I will only add that in
contemplating the portrait of a true Friend, as delineated in the following pages, you
cannot be at a loss to discover your own. -
FANNIUS.- I agree with you entirely, Laelius, no man ever possessed more amiable or
more illustrious virtues than Scipio Africanus. Nevertheless, let me entreat you to
remember that the public eye is particularly turned towards you upon the present occasion,
and extremely attentive to observe how Laelius, the sage Laelius (as, by a very singular
distinction you are universally both called and acknowledged) behaves under the great loss
he has sustained. When I say "by a very singular distinction," I am not ignorant
that the late Marcus Cato, in our own times, and Lucius Atilius, in the days of our
forefathers, were generally mentioned with the same honourable addition; but I know, too,
that it was for attainments somewhat different from those which have so justly occasioned
it to be conferred on you. To the latter it was given in allusion to his eminent skill in
the laws of his country, as it was to the former on account of the wonderful compass and
variety of his knowledge, together with his great experience in the affairs of the world.
Indeed, the many signal proofs that Cato gave, both in the forum and the senate, of his
judgement, his spirit, and his penetration, produced such frequent occasions to speak of
his wisdom with admiration, that the epithet seems, by continually recurring, to have been
considered in his latter days as his original and proper name. But the same appellation
(and I cannot forbear repeating it again) has been conferred on you for qualifications not
altogether of the same nature; not merely in respect to the superior excellency of your
political accomplishments and those intellectual endowments which adorn your mind, but
principally in consequence of the singular advancement you have made in the study and
practice of moral wisdom. In short, if Laelius is never named without the designation I am
speaking of, it is not so much in the popular as in the philosophical sense of the term
that this characteristic is applied to him, and in that sense I will venture to say there
is not a single instance throughout all the states of Greece of its ever having been thus
attributed to any man by the unanimous consent of a whole people. For as to those famous
sages who are commonly known by the general denomination of "the seven wise men of
Greece," it is asserted by the most accurate inquirers into their history that they
cannot properly be ranked in the class of moral philosophers. One celebrated Grecian,
however, there was, a native of Athens, whom the oracle of Apollo declared to be the
wisest of the sons of men, and believe me, Laelius, it is the same species of wisdom which
this excellent moralist displayed that all the world is agreed in ascribing to you; that
wisdom, I mean, by which you hold virtue to be capable of fortifying the soul against all
the various assaults of human calamities, and are taught to consider happiness as
depending upon yourself alone.
In consequence of this general opinion I have been frequently asked (and the same
question, I believe, has no less often, Scaevola, been proposed to you) in what manner
Laelius supports the loss he has lately sustained. And this inquiry was the rather made,
as it was remarked that you absented yourself from our last monthly meeting in the gardens
of Brutus the Augur, where you had always before very regularly assisted.
SCAEVOLA.- I acknowledge, Laelius, that the question which Fannius mentions has
repeatedly been put to me by many of my acquaintance, and I have always assured them that,
as far as I could observe, you received the wound that has been inflicted upon you by the
death of your affectionate and illustrious friend with great composure and equanimity.
Nevertheless, that it was not possible, nor indeed consistent with the general humane
disposition of your nature, not to be affected by it in a very sensible manner; however,
that it was by no means grief, but merely indisposition, which prevented you from being
present at the last meeting of our assembly.
LAELIUS.- Your answer, Scaevola, was perfectly agreeable to the fact. Ill, certainly,
would it become me, on account of any private affliction, to decline a conference which I
have never failed to attend when my health permitted. And, indeed, I am persuaded that no
man who possesses a proper firmness of mind will suffer his misfortunes, how heavily
soever they may press upon his heart, to interrupt his duties of any kind. For the rest, I
consider the high opinion, Fannius, which you suppose the world entertains of my
character, as an obliging proof of your friendship; but it is an opinion which, as I am
not conscious of deserving, I have no disposition to claim. As little am I inclined to
subscribe to your judgement concerning Cato; for if consummate wisdom, in the moral and
philosophic idea of that expression, was ever to be found in the character of any human
being (which, I will confess, however, I very much doubt), it certainly appeared
throughout the whole conduct of that excellent person. Not to mention other proofs, with
what unexampled fortitude, let me ask, did he support the death of his incomparable son? I
was no stranger to the behaviour of Paulus, and was an eye-witness to that of Gallus
labouring under an affliction of the same kind; but the sons whom they were respectively
bereaved of died when they were mere boys. Whereas Cato's was snatched from him when he
had arrived at the prime of manhood and was flourishing in the general esteem of his
country. Let me caution you, then, from suffering any man to rival Cato in your good
opinion, not excepting even him whom the oracle of Apollo, you say, declared to be the
wisest of the human race. The truth is, the memory of Socrates is held in honour for the
admirable doctrine he delivered, but Cato's for the glorious deeds he performed.
Thus far in particular reply to Fannius. I now address myself to both; and if I were to
deny that I regret the death of Scipio, how far such a disposition of mind would be right,
I leave philosophers to determine. But far, I confess, it is from the sentiments of my
heart. I am sensibly, indeed, affected by the loss of a friend whose equal no man, I will
venture to say, ever possessed before, and none, I am persuaded, will ever meet with
again. Nevertheless, I stand in want of no external assistance to heal the wound I have
received. My own reflections supply me with sufficient consolation. And I find it
principally from not having given in to that false opinion which adds poignancy to the
grief of so many others under a loss of the same kind. For I am convinced there is no
circumstance in the death of Scipio that can justly be lamented with respect to himself.
Whatever there is of private misfortune in that event consists entirely in the loss which
I have sustained. Under the full influence of such a persuasion, to indulge unrestrained
sorrow would be a proof not of a generous affection to one's friend, but of too interested
a concern for one's self. It is evident, indeed, that the colour of Scipio's days has, in
every view of it, proved truly bright and glorious. For tell me, my friends, is there a
felicity (unless he wished never to die- a wish, I am confident, he was too wise to
entertain), is there a single article of human happiness that can reasonably be desired
which he did not live to attain? The high expectations the world had conceived of him in
his earliest youth were more than confirmed in his riper years, as his virtues shone forth
with a lustre superior even to the most sanguine hopes of his country. He was twice,
without the least solicitation on his own part, elected consul; the first time before he
was legally qualified by his age to be admitted into that office, and the next although
not prematurely with respect to himself, yet it had well-nigh proved too late for his
country. In both instances, however, success attended his arms, and having levelled with
the ground the capitals of two states the most inveterately hostile to the Roman name, he
not only happily terminated the respective wars, but secured us from all apprehension of
future danger from the same powers. I forbear to enlarge upon the affability of his
manners, the affection he showed to his mother, the generosity he exercised towards his
sisters, the kindness with which he behaved to the rest of his family, and the unblemished
integrity that influenced every part of his conduct. They were qualities in his exemplary
and amiable character with which you are perfectly well acquainted. It is equally
unnecessary to add how sincerely he was beloved by his country; the general concern that
appeared at his funeral renders it sufficiently evident. What increase, then, could the
addition of a few more years have made to the glory and happiness of his life? For
admitting that old age does not necessarily bring on a state of imbecility (as Cato, I
remember, maintained in a conversation with Scipio and myself about a year before his
death), it certainly impairs, at least, that vigour and vivacity which Scipio still
possessed at the time of his decease.
Such, then, was the course of his happy and honourable days, that neither his felicity
nor his fame could have received any farther increase. And as to his death, it was much
too sudden to have been attended with any sensible degree of pain. By what cause that
unexpected event was occasioned is by no means indeed clear; the general suspicions
concerning it you well know. One circumstance, at least, is unquestionable: that of all
the many brilliant days he had enjoyed, the last of his life was the most completely
illustrious. For it was on the very evening which preceded his death that he received the
singular honour, at the breaking up of the senate, of being conducted to his house by all
the members of that august assembly, attended by the several ambassadors both from Latium
and the allies of the Roman Commonwealth. So that he cannot, it should seem, so properly
be said to have descended into the regions of the infernal deities as to have passed at
once from the supreme height of human glory to the mansions of the celestial gods. For I
am by no means a convert to the new doctrine which certain philosophers have lately
endeavoured to propagate; who maintain that death extinguishes the whole man, and his soul
perishes with the dissolution of his body. Indeed, the practice of our ancestors alone,
abstracted from the opinion of the ancient sages, weighs more with me than all the
arguments of these pretended reasoners. For certainly our forefathers would not so
religiously have observed those sacred rites which have been instituted in honour of the
dead if they had supposed that the deceased were in no respect concerned in the
performance of them. But the conviction arising from this consideration is much
strengthened when I add to it the authority of those great masters of reason, who
enlightened our country by the schools they established in Magna Graecia during the
flourishing ages of that now deserted part of Italy. And what has a still farther
influence in determining my persuasion is the opinion of that respectable moralist who, in
the judgement of Apollo himself, was declared to be the wisest of mankind. This
incomparable philosopher, without once varying to the opposite side of the question (as
his custom was upon many other controverted subjects), steadily and firmly asserted that
the human soul is a divine and immortal substance, that death opens a way for its return
to the celestial mansions, and that the spirits of those just men who have made the
greatest progress in the paths of virtue find the easiest and most expeditious admittance.
This also was the opinion of my departed friend: an opinion which you may remember,
Scaevola, he particularly enlarged upon in that conversation which, a very short time
before his death, he held with you and me, in conjunction with Philus, Manilius, and a
large company of his other friends, on the subject of government. For in the close of that
conference, which continued, you know, during three successive days, he related to us (as
if he had been led into the topic by a kind of presentiment of his approaching fate) a
discourse which Africanus delivered to him in a vision during his sleep concerning the
soul's immortality.
If it be true, then, that the souls of good men, when enlarged from this corporeal
prison, wing their flight into the heavenly mansions with more or less ease in proportion
to their moral attainments, what human spirit can we suppose to have made its immediate
way to the gods with greater facility than that of Scipio? To bewail, therefore, an event
attended with such advantageous consequences to himself would, I fear, have more the
appearance of envy than of friendship. But should the contrary opinion prove to be the
fact should the soul and body really perish together, and no sense remain after our
dissolution, yet death, although it cannot indeed, upon this supposition, be deemed a
happiness to my illustrious friend, can by no means however be considered as an evil. For
if all perception be totally extinguished in him, he is, with respect to everything that
concerns himself, in the same state as if he had never been born. I say "with respect
to himself," for it is far otherwise with regard to his friends and to his country,
as both will have reason to rejoice in his having lived so long as their own existence
shall endure.
In every view, therefore, of this event, considering it merely as it relates to my
departed friend, it appears, as I observed before, to be a happy consummation. But it is
much otherwise with regard to myself, who, as I entered earlier into the world, ought,
according to the common course of nature, to have sooner departed out of it. Nevertheless,
I derive so much satisfaction from reflecting on the friendship which subsisted between
us, that I cannot but think I have reason to congratulate myself on the felicity of my
life, since I have had the happiness to pass the greatest part of it in the society of
Scipio. We lived under the same roof, passed together through the same military
employments, and were actuated in all our pursuits, whether of a public or private nature,
by the same common principles and views. In short, and to express at once the whole spirit
and essence of friendship, our inclinations, our sentiments, and our studies were in
perfect accord. For these reasons my ambition is less gratified by that high opinion
(especially as it is unmerited) which Fannius assures me the world entertains of my
wisdom, than by the strong expectations I have conceived that the memory of our friendship
will prove immortal. I indulge this hope with the greater confidence as there do not occur
in all the annals of past ages above three or four instances of a similar amity. And
future times, I trust, will add the names of Scipio and Laelius to that select and
celebrated number.
FANNIUS.- Your expectations, Laelius, cannot fail of being realised. And now, as you
have mentioned Friendship, and we are entirely disengaged, it would be extremely
acceptable to me (and I am persuaded it would likewise be so to Scaevola) if, agreeably to
your usual readiness upon other occasions of just inquiry, you would give us your opinion
concerning the true nature of this connection, the extent of its obligations, and the
maxims by which it ought to be conducted.
SCAEVOLA.- Fannius has prevented me in the request I was intending to make; your
compliance, therefore, will equally confer an obligation upon both of us.
LAELIUS.- I should very willingly gratify your desires if I thought myself equal to the
task, for the subject is interesting, and we are at present, as Fannius observed, entirely
at leisure; but I am too sensible of my own insufficiency to venture thus unprepared upon
the disquisition of a topic which requires much consideration to be treated as it
deserves. Unpremeditated dissertations of this kind can only be expected from those
Grecian geniuses, who are accustomed to speak on the sudden upon any given question; and
to those learned disputants I must refer you, if you wish to hear the subject properly
discussed. As for myself, I can only exhort you to look on Friendship as the most valuable
of all human possessions, no other being equally suited to the moral nature of man, or so
applicable to every state and circumstance, whether of prosperity or adversity, in which
he can possibly be placed. But at the same time I lay it down as a fundamental axiom that
"true Friendship can only subsist between those who are animated by the strictest
principles of honour and virtue." When I say this, I would not be thought to adopt
the sentiments of those speculative moralists who pretend that no man can justly be deemed
virtuous who is not arrived at that state of absolute perfection which constitutes,
according to their ideas, the character of genuine wisdom. This opinion may appear true,
perhaps, in theory, but is altogether inapplicable to any useful purpose of society, as it
supposes a degree of virtue to which no mortal was ever capable of rising. It is not,
therefore, that notional species of merit which imagination may possibly conceive, or our
wishes perhaps form, that we have reason to expect and require in a friend; it is those
moral attainments alone which we see actually realised among mankind. And, indeed, I can
never be persuaded to think that either Fabricius, or Coruncanius, or Curius, whom our
forefathers justly revered for the superior rectitude of their conduct, were sages
according to that sublime criterion which these visionary philosophers have endeavoured to
establish. I should be contented, however, to leave them in the undisturbed possession of
their arrogant and unintelligible notions of virtue, provided they would allow that the
great persons I have named merited at least the character of good men; but even this, it
seems, they are not willing to grant, still contending, with their usual obstinacy, that
goodness is an attribute which can only be ascribed to their perfect sage. I shall
venture, nevertheless, to adjust my own measure of that quality by the humbler standard of
plain common sense. In my opinion, therefore, whoever (like those distinguished models I
just now mentioned) restrains his passions within the bounds of reason, and uniformly
acts, in all the various relations of life, upon one steady, consistent principle of
approved honour, justice, and beneficence, that man is in reality, as well as in common
estimation, strictly and truly good; inasmuch as he regulates his conduct (so far, I mean,
as is compatible with human frailty) by a constant obedience to those best and surest
guides of moral rectitude, the sacred laws of Nature.
In tracing these laws it seems evident, I think, that man, by the frame of his moral
constitution, is disposed to consider himself as standing in some degree of social
relation to the whole species in general; and that this principle acts with more or less
vigour, according to the distance at which he is placed with respect to any particular
community or individual of his kind. Thus it may be observed to operate with greater force
between fellow-citizens of the same commonwealth than in regard to foreigners, and between
the several members of the same family than towards those among whom there is no common
tie of consanguinity. In the case of relations, indeed, this principle somewhat rises in
its strength, and produces a sort of instinctive amity; but an amity, however, of no great
firmness or solidity. The inferiority of this species of natural connection, when compared
with that which is the consequence of voluntary choice, appears from this single
consideration: that the former has not the least dependence upon the sentiments of the
heart, but continues the same it was in its origin, notwithstanding every degree of
cordiality between the parties should be utterly extinguished; whereas the kind affections
enter so essentially into the latter, that where love does not exist friendship can have
no being. But what still farther evinces the strength and efficacy of friendship above all
the numberless other social tendencies of the human heart is that, instead of wasting its
force upon a multiplicity of divided objects, its whole energy is exerted for the benefit
of only two or three persons at the utmost.
Friendship may be shortly defined, "a perfect conformity of opinions upon all
religious and civil subjects, united with the highest degree of mutual esteem and
affection;" and yet from these simple circumstances results the most desirable
blessing (virtue alone excepted) that the gods have bestowed on mankind. I am sensible
that in this opinion I shall not be universally supported- health and riches, honours and
power, have each of them their distinct admirers, and are respectively pursued as the
supreme felicity of human life; whilst some there are (and the number is by no means
inconsiderable) who contend that it is to be found only in the sensual gratifications. But
the latter place their principal happiness on the same low enjoyments which constitute the
chief good of brutes, and the former on those very precarious possessions that depend much
less on our own merit than on the caprice of fortune. They, indeed, who maintain that the
ultimate good of man consists in the knowledge and practice of virtue, fix it,
undoubtedly, upon its truest and most glorious foundation; but let it be remembered, at
the same time, that virtue is at once both the parent and the support of friendship.
I have already declared that by virtue I do not mean, with the philosophers before
alluded to, that ideal strain of perfection which is nowhere to be found but in the
pompous language of enthusiastic declamation; I mean only that attainable degree of moral
merit which is understood by the term in common discourse, and may be exemplified in
actual practice. Without entering, therefore, into a particular inquiry concerning those
imaginary beings which never have been realised in human nature, I think myself warranted
in considering those persons as truly good men who have always been so deemed in the
general opinion of mankind- the Pauli, for instance, and the Catos, the Galli, the
Scipios, and the Phili; for with such characters the world has reason to be well
contented.
When Friendship, therefore, is contracted between men who possess a degree of virtue
not inferior to that which adorned those approved personages I have just named, it is
productive of unspeakable advantages. "Life would be utterly lifeless," as old
Ennius expresses it, without a friend on whose kindness and fidelity one might confidently
repose. Can there be a more real complacency, indeed, than to lay open to another the most
secret thoughts of one's heart with the same confidence and security as if they were still
concealed in his own? Would not the fruits of prosperity lose much of their relish were
there none who equally rejoiced with the possessor in the satisfaction he received from
them? And how difficult must it prove to bear up under the pressure of misfortunes
unsupported by a generous associate who more than equally divides their load? In short,
the several occasions to which friendship extends its kindly offices are unbounded, while
the advantage of every other object of human desires is confined within certain specific
and determinate limits, beyond which it is of no avail. Thus wealth is pursued for the
particular uses to which it is solely applicable; power, in order to receive worship;
honours, for the sake of fame; sensual indulgences, on account of the gratifications that
attend them; and health, as the means of living exempt from pain and possessing the
unobstructed exercise of all our corporeal faculties. Whereas Friendship (I repeat again)
is adapted by its nature to an infinite number of different ends, accommodates itself to
all circumstances and situations of human life, and can at no season prove either
unsuitable or inconvenient- in a word, not even fire and water (to use a proverbial
illustration) are capable of being converted to a greater variety of beneficial purposes.
I desire it may be understood, however, that I am now speaking, not of that inferior
species of amity which occurs in the common intercourse of the world (although this, too,
is not without its pleasures and advantages), but of that genuine and perfect friendship,
examples of which are so extremely rare as to be rendered memorable by their singularity.
It is this sort alone that can truly be said to heighten the joys of prosperity, and
mitigate the sorrows of adversity, by a generous participation of both; indeed, one of the
chief among the many important offices of this connection is exerted in the day of
affliction, by dispelling the gloom that overcasts the mind, encouraging the hope of
happier times, and preventing the depressed spirits from sinking into a state of weak and
unmanly despondence. Whoever is in possession of a true friend sees the exact counterpart
of his own soul. In consequence of this moral resemblance between them, they are so
intimately one that no advantage can attend either which does not equally communicate
itself to both; they are strong in the strength, rich in the opulence, and powerful in the
power of each other. They can scarcely, indeed, be considered in any respect as separate
individuals, and wherever the one appears the other is virtually present. I will venture
even a bolder assertion, and affirm that in despite of death they must both continue to
exist so long as either of them shall remain alive; for the deceased may, in a certain
sense, be said still to live whose memory is preserved with the highest veneration and the
most tender regret in the bosom of the survivor, a circumstance which renders the former
happy in death, and the latter honoured in life.
If that benevolent principle which thus intimately unites two persons in the bands of
amity were to be struck out of the human heart, it would be impossible that either private
families or public communities should subsist- even the land itself would lie waste, and
desolation overspread the earth. Should this assertion stand in need of a proof, it will
appear evident by considering the ruinous consequences which ensue from discord and
dissension; for what family is so securely established, or what government fixed upon so
firm a basis, that it would not be overturned and utterly destroyed were a general spirit
of enmity and malevolence to break forth amongst its members?- a sufficient argument,
surely, of the inestimable benefits which flow from the kind and friendly affections.
I have been informed that a certain learned bard of Agrigentum published a philosophic
poem in Greek, in which he asserted that the several bodies which compose the physical
system of the universe preserve the consistence of their respective forms, or are
dispersed into their primitive atoms, as a principle of amity, or of discord, becomes
predominant in their composition. It is certain, at least, that the powerful effects of
these opposite agents in the moral world is universally perceived and acknowledged.
Agreeable to this general sentiment, who is there, when he beholds a man generously
exposing himself to certain danger, for the sake of rescuing his distressed friend, that
can forbear expressing the warmest approbation? Accordingly, what repeated acclamations
lately echoed through the theatre at the new play of my host and friend Pacuvius, in that
scene where Pylades and Orestes are introduced before the king; who being ignorant which
of them was Orestes, whom he had determined to put to death, each insists, in order to
save the life of his associate, that he himself is the real person in question. If the
mere fictitious representation of such a magnanimous and heroic contention was thus
universally applauded by the spectators, what impression must it have made upon their
minds had they seen it actually displayed in real life! The general effect produced upon
this occasion, clearly shows how deeply nature hath impressed on the human heart a sense
of moral beauty; since a whole audience thus unanimously conspired in admiring an instance
of sublime generosity in another's conduct, which not one of them, perhaps, was capable of
exhibiting in his own.
Thus far I have ventured to lay before you my general notions concerning friendship. If
aught remain to be added on the subject (and much there certainly does), permit me to
refer you to those philosophers who are more capable of giving you satisfaction.
FANNIUS.- That satisfaction, Laelius, we rather hope to receive from you. For although
I have frequently applied to those philosophers to whom you would resign me, and have been
no unwilling auditor of their discourses, yet I am persuaded you will deliver your
sentiments upon this subject in a much more elegant and enlightening manner.
SCAEVOLA.- You would have been still more confirmed in that opinion, Fannius, had you
been present with us at the conference which we held not long since in the gardens of
Scipio, upon the subject of government; when Laelius proved himself so powerful an
advocate in support of natural justice, by confuting the subtle arguments of that very
acute and discerning thinker Philus.
FANNIUS.- To triumph in the cause of justice could be no difficult task, certainly, to
Laelius, who is, confessedly, one of the most just and upright of men.
SCAEVOLA.- And can it be less easy for him who has deservedly acquired the highest
honour by his eminent constancy, affection, and fidelity to his friend, to explain, with
equal success, the principles and duties of friendship?
LAELIUS.- This is pressing me beyond all power of resistance; and, indeed, it would be
unreasonable, as well as difficult, not to yield to the desires of two such worthy
relations, when they request my sentiments upon a point of so interesting and important a
nature.
Having frequently, then, turned my thoughts on this subject, the principal question
that has always occurred to me is, whether Friendship takes its rise from the wants and
weaknesses of man, and is cultivated solely in order to obtain, by a mutual exchange of
good offices, those advantages which he could not otherwise acquire? Or whether nature,
notwithstanding this beneficial intercourse is inseparable from the connection, previously
disposes the heart to engage in it upon a nobler and more generous inducement? In order to
determine this question, it must be observed that love is a leading and essential
principle in constituting that particular species of benevolence which is termed amity;
and although this sentiment may be feigned, indeed, by the followers of those who are
courted merely with a view to interest, yet it cannot possibly be produced by a motive of
interest alone. There is a truth and simplicity in genuine friendship, an unconstrained
and spontaneous emotion, altogether incompatible with every kind and degree of artifice
and simulation. I am persuaded, therefore, that it derives its origin not from the
indigence of human nature, but from a distinct principle implanted in the breast of man;
from a certain instinctive tendency, which draws congenial minds into union, and not from
a cool calculation of the advantages with which it is pregnant.
The wonderful force, indeed, of innate propensities of the benevolent kind is
observable even among brutes, in that tender attachment which prevails during a certain
period between the dam and her young. But their strongest effects are more particularly
conspicuous in the human species; as appears, in the first place, from that powerful
endearment which subsists between parents and children, and which cannot be eradicated or
counteracted without the most detestable impiety; and in the next, from those sentiments
of secret approbation which arise on the very first interview with a man whose manners and
temper seem to harmonise with our own, and in whom we think we discover symptoms of an
honest and virtuous mind. In reality, nothing is so beautiful as virtue; and nothing makes
its way more directly to the heart: we feel a certain degree of affection even towards
those meritorious persons whom we have never seen, and whose characters are known to us
only from history. Where is the man that does not, even at this distance of time, find his
heart glow with benevolence towards the memory of Fabricius or Curius, though he certainly
never beheld their persons? On the contrary, who is there that feels not emotions of
hatred and detestation when he reflects on the conduct of Tarquin, of Cassius, or of
Maelius? Rome has twice contended for empire upon Italian ground, when she sent forth her
armies to oppose the respective invasions of Pyrrhus and of Hannibal; and yet, with what
different dispositions do we review the campaigns of those hostile chiefs! The generous
spirit of the former very much softens our resentment towards him; while the cruelty of
the latter must render his character the abhorrence of every Roman.
If the charms of virtue, then, are so captivating, as to inspire us with some degree of
affection towards those approved persons whom we never saw; or, which is still more
extraordinary, if they force us to admire them even in an enemy; what wonder is it that in
those with whom we live and converse they should affect us in a still more irresistible
manner? It must be acknowledged, however, that this first impression is considerably
strengthened and improved, by a nearer intercourse, by subsequent good offices, and by a
general indication of zeal for our service- causes which, when they operate with combined
force, kindle in the heart the warmest and most generous amity. To suppose that all
attachments of this sort spring solely from a sense of human imbecility, and in order to
supply that insufficiency we feel in ourselves, by the assistance we hope to receive from
others, is to degrade friendship to a most unworthy and ignoble origin. Indeed, if this
supposition were true, they who find in themselves the greatest defects would be the most
disposed and the best qualified to engage in this kind of connection, which is contrary to
fact. For experience shows that the more a man looks for his happiness within himself, and
the more firmly he stands supported by the consciousness of his own intrinsic merit, the
more desirous he is to cultivate an intercourse of amity, and the better friend he
certainly proves. In what respect, let me ask, had Scipio any occasion for my services? We
neither of us, most assuredly, stood in need of the other's aid; but the singular virtues
I admired in his character, together with the favourable opinion which in some measure,
perhaps, he had conceived of mine, were the primary and prevailing motives of that
affectionate attachment which was afterwards so considerably increased by the habitudes of
intimate and unreserved converse. For although many and great advantages accrued to both
from the alliance that was thus formed between us, yet sure I am that the hope of
receiving those reciprocal benefits by no means entered into the original cause of our
union. In fact, as generosity disdains to make a traffic of her favours; and a liberal
mind confers obligations, not from the mean hope of a return, but solely from that
satisfaction which nature has annexed to the exertion of benevolent actions, so I think it
is evident that we are induced to form friendships, not from a mercenary contemplation of
their utility, but from that pure disinterested complacency which results from the mere
exercise of the affection itself.
That sect of philosophers who impute all human actions to the same motive which
determines those of brutes, and refer both to one common principle of self-gratification,
will be very far, I am sensible, from agreeing with me in the origin I have ascribed to
friendship. And no wonder, for nothing great and elevated can win the esteem and
approbation of a set of men whose whole thoughts and pursuits are professedly directed to
so base and ignoble an end.
I shall take no further notice, therefore, of their unworthy tenets, well convinced as
I am that there is an implanted sense in man, by which nature allures his heart to the
charms of virtue, in whomsoever her lovely form appears. And hence it is, that they who
find in themselves a predilection for some particular object of moral approbation are
induced to desire a nearer and more intimate communion with that person, in order to enjoy
those pure and mental advantages which flow from an habitual and familiar intercourse with
the good,- I will add, too, in order to feel the refined satisfaction of inspiring equal
and reciprocal sentiments of affection, together with the generous pleasure of conferring
acts of kindness without the least view of a return. A friendship placed upon this, its
proper and natural basis, is not only productive of the most solid utility, but stands at
the same time upon a firmer and more durable foundation than if it were raised upon a
sense of human wants and weakness. For if interest were the true and only medium to cement
this connection, it could hold no longer than while interest, which is always fluctuating
and variable, should continue to be advanced by the same hand; whereas genuine friendship,
being produced by the simple efficiency of nature's steady and immutable laws, resembles
the source from whence it springs, and is for ever permanent and unchangeable.
This may suffice concerning the rise of friendship, unless you should have anything to
object to the principles I have endeavoured to establish.
FANNIUS.- Much otherwise. I will take the privilege, therefore, of seniority to answer
for Scaevola as well as for myself, by requesting you in both our names to proceed.
SCAEVOLA.- Fannius has very justly expressed my sentiments, and I join with him in
wishing to hear what you have further to observe on the question we have proposed.
LAELIUS.- I will lay before you, then, my excellent young man, the result of frequent
conversations which Scipio and I have formerly held together upon the subject. He used to
say that nothing is so difficult as to preserve a lasting and unbroken friendship to the
end of life. For it may frequently happen not only that the interest of the parties shall
considerably interfere, or their opinions concerning political measures widely differ, but
age, infirmities, or misfortunes are apt to produce very extraordinary changes in the
tempers and dispositions of men. He illustrated this general instability of common
friendships by tracing the revolutions they are liable to undergo from the earliest period
in which this kind of connection can commence. Accordingly, he observed that those strong
attachments which are sometimes formed in childhood were generally renounced with the
puerile robe. But should a particular affection contracted in this tender age happen to
continue to riper years, it is nothing unusual to see it afterwards interrupted, either by
rivalship in a matrimonial pursuit, or some other object of youthful competition, in which
both cannot possibly succeed. If these common dangers, however, should be happily escaped,
yet others no less fatal may hereafter rise up to its ruin, especially if they should
become opposite candidates for the same dignities of the state. For as with the generality
of mankind, an immoderate desire of wealth, so among those of a more liberal and exalted
spirit, an inordinate thirst of glory is usually the strongest bane of amity; and each of
them has proved the occasion of converting the warmest friends into the most implacable
enemies.
He added, that great and just dissensions had arisen also in numberless instances on
account of improper requests where a man has solicited his friend to assist him, for
example, in his lawless gallantries, or to support him in some other act of equal
dishonour and injustice. A denial upon such occasions, though certainly laudable, is
generally deemed by the party refused to be a violation of the rights of amity; and he
will probably resent it the more, as applications of this nature necessarily imply that
the person who breaks through all restraints in urging them is equally disposed to make
the same unwarrantable concessions on his own part. Disagreements of this kind have not
only caused irreparable breaches between the closest connections, but have even kindled
unextinguishable animosities. In short, the common friendships of the world are liable to
be broken to pieces by such a variety of accidents, that Scipio thought it required a more
than common portion, not only of good sense, but of good fortune, to steer entirely clear
of those numerous and fatal rocks.
Our first inquiry therefore, if you please, shall be, "How far the claims of
friendship may reasonably extend?" For instance, ought the bosom friends of
Coriolanus (if any intimacies of that kind he had) to have joined him in turning his arms
against his country; or those of Viscellinus, or Spurius Maelius, to have assisted them in
their designs of usurping the sovereign power?
In those public commotions which were raised by Tiberius Gracchus, it appeared that
neither Quintus Tubero, nor any other of those persons with whom he lived upon terms of
the greatest intimacy, engaged in his faction, one only excepted, who was related to your
family, Scaevola, by the ties of hospitality: I mean Blosius, of Cumae. This man (as I was
appointed an assessor with the two consuls Laenas and Rupilius) applied to me to obtain
his pardon, alleging, in his justification, that he entertained so high an esteem and
affection for Gracchus, as to hold himself obliged to concur with him in any measure he
might propose. What! if he had even desired you to set fire to the Capitol? "Such a
request, I am confident," replied Blosius, "he never would have made." But
admitting that he had, how would you have determined? "In that case," returned
Blosius, "I should most certainly have complied." Infamous as this confession
was, he acted agreeably to it; or rather, indeed, his conduct exceeded even the impiety of
his professions, for, not contented with encouraging the seditious schemes of Tiberius
Gracchus, he actually took the lead in them, and was an instigator as well as an associate
in all the madness of his measures. In consequence of these extravagant proceedings, and
alarmed to find that extraordinary judges were appointed for his trial, he made his escape
into Asia, where, entering into the service of our enemies, he met with the fate he so
justly merited for the injuries he had done to the commonwealth.
I lay it down, then, as a rule without exception, "that no degree of friendship
can either justify or excuse the commission of a criminal action." For true amity
being founded on an opinion of virtue in the object of our affection, it is scarcely
possible that those sentiments should remain, after an avowed and open violation of the
principles which originally produced them.
To maintain that the duties of this relation require a compliance with every request a
friend shall offer, and give a right to expect the same unlimited concessions in return,
would be a doctrine, I confess, from which no ill consequences could ensue, if the parties
concerned were absolutely perfect, and incapable of the least deviation from the dictates
of virtue and good sense. But in settling the principles by which our conduct in this
respect ought to be regulated, we are not to form our estimate by fictitious
representations, but to consider what history and experience teaches us that mankind truly
are, and to select for our imitation such real characters as seem to have approached the
nearest to perfection.
Tradition informs us that Aemilius Paulus and Caius Luscinus, who were twice colleagues
in the consular and censorial offices, were united also in the strictest intimacy; and
that Manius Curius and Titus Coruncanius lived with them, and with each other, upon terms
of the strictest and most inviolable friendship. It may well, therefore, be presumed
(since there is not even the slightest reason to suspect the contrary) that none of these
illustrious worthies ever made a proposal to his friend inconsistent with the laws of
honour, or that fidelity he had pledged to his country. To urge that "if any
overtures of that nature had ever been made, they would certainly have been rejected, and
consequently must have been concealed from public notice," is an objection by no
means sufficient to weaken the presumption, when the sanctity of manners which
distinguished these venerable persons shall be duly considered; for to be capable of
making such proposals would be no less a proof of depravity than actually consenting to
them. Accordingly, we find that both Carbo and Caius Cato, the friends of Tiberius
Gracchus, did not refuse to take a part in his turbulent measures, as his brother Caius,
although he was not indeed a very considerable actor in the scene at first, is now most
zealously engaged in the same unworthy cause.
Let it be established, therefore, as one of the most sacred and indispensable laws of
this connection, "never either to make, or to grant, a request which honour and
virtue will not justify." To allege, in any instance of deviation from moral
rectitude, that one was actuated by a warmth of zeal for his friend, is in every species
of criminal conduct a plea altogether scandalous and inadmissible, but particularly in
transactions that strike at the peace and welfare of the state. I would the more earnestly
inculcate this important maxim, as, from the present complexion of the times, it seems
peculiarly necessary to guard against introducing principles which may hereafter be
productive of fatal disturbances in the republic; and, indeed, we have already somewhat
deviated from that political line by which our wiser ancestors were wont to regulate their
public conduct.
Thus Tiberius Gracchus, who aimed at sovereign power- or rather, indeed, who actually
possessed it during the space of a few months- opened a scene so totally new to the Roman
people that not even tradition had delivered down to them any circumstance in former times
which resembled it. Some of the friends and relations of this man, who had concurred with
him in his lifetime, continued to support the same factious measures after his death; and
I cannot reflect on the cruel part they acted towards Scipio Nasica without melting into
tears. I will confess, at the same time, that, in consideration of the punishment which
Tiberius Gracchus has lately suffered, I have protected his friend Carbo as far as it was
in my power. As to the consequences we have reason to expect from the tribunate of Caius
Gracchus, I am unwilling to indulge conjecture; but this I do not scruple to say, that
when once a distemper of this kind has broken out in a commonwealth, the infection is apt
to spread, and it generally gathers strength the wider it extends. In conformity to this
observation, the change which was made by the Gabinian law in the manner of voting was,
two years afterwards, you know, carried still farther by the law which Cassius proposed
and obtained. And I cannot but prophesy that a rupture between the people and the senate
will be the result of both, as the most important affairs of the commonwealth will
hereafter be conducted by the caprice of the multitude. It is much easier, indeed, to
discover the source from which these disorders will arise, than to point out a remedy for
the mischief they will occasion.
I have thrown out these reflections, as well knowing that no public innovations of this
pernicious kind are ever attempted, without the assistance of some select and confidential
associates. It is, necessary, therefore, to admonish those who mean well to the
constitution of their country, that if they should inadvertently have formed an intimacy
with men of a contrary principle, they are not to imagine themselves so bound by the laws
of amity as to lie under an indispensable obligation to support them in attempts injurious
to the community. Whosoever disturbs the peace of the commonwealth, is a just object of
public indignation; nor is that man less deserving of punishment who acts as a second in
such an impious cause than the principal. No person ever possessed a greater share of
power, or was more eminently distinguished among the Grecian states, than Themistocles.
This illustrious general, who was commander-in-chief of the Grecian forces in the Persian
War, and who by his services upon that occasion delivered his country from the tyranny
with which it was threatened, having been driven into exile by the jealousy his great
talents had raised, did not acquiesce under the ingratitude of his fellow-citizens with
the submission he ought; on the contrary, he acted the same traitorous part under this
unmerited persecution as Coriolanus did amongst us about twenty years before. But neither
the one nor the other found a coadjutor among their respective friends, in consequence of
which just dereliction, they each of them perished by their own desperate hands.
It appears, then, from the principles I have laid down, that these kinds of wicked
combinations under the pretended obligations of friendship, are so far from being
sanctified by that relation, that on the contrary they ought to be publicly discouraged by
the severest punishments; lest it should be thought an allowed maxim, that a friend is to
be supported in every outrage he may commit, even though he should take up arms against
his country. I am the more earnest to expose the error of this dangerous persuasion, as
there are certain symptoms in the present times which give me reason to fear that at some
future period the impious principle I am combating may actually be extended to the case I
last mentioned; and I am no less desirous that the peace of the republic should be
preserved after my death than zealous to maintain it during my life.
The first and great axiom therefore in the laws of amity should invariably be-
"never to require from a friend what he cannot grant without a breach of his honour;
and always to be ready to assist him upon every occasion consistent with that
principle." So long as we shall act under the secure guard of this sacred barrier, it
will not be sufficient merely to yield a ready compliance with all his desires; we ought
to anticipate and prevent them. Another rule likewise of indispensable obligation upon all
who would approve themselves true friends, is, "to be ever ready to offer their
advice, with an unreserved and honest frankness of heart." The counsels of a faithful
and friendly monitor carry with them an authority which ought to have great influence, and
they should be urged not only with freedom, but even with severity, if the occasion should
appear to require it. I am informed that certain Greek writers (philosophers, it seems, in
the opinion of their countrymen), have advanced some very extraordinary positions relating
to the subject of our present inquiry; as, indeed, what subject is there which these
subtle geniuses have not tortured with their sophistry? The authors to whom I allude
dissuade their disciples from entering into any strong attachments, as unavoidably
creating supernumerary disquietudes to those who engage in them, and as every man has more
than sufficient to call forth his solicitude in the course of his own affairs, it is a
weakness, they contend, anxiously to involve himself in the concerns of others. They
recommend it also in all connections of this kind to hold the bands of union extremely
loose, so as always to have it in one's power to straiten or relax them as circumstances
and situations shall render most expedient. They add, as a capital article of their
doctrine, that "to live exempt from cares is an essential ingredient to constitute
human happiness, but an ingredient, however, which he who voluntarily distresses himself
with cares in which he has no necessary and personal interest, must never hope to
possess."
I have been told, likewise, that there is another set of pretended philosophers of the
same country, whose tenets concerning this subject are of a still more illiberal and
ungenerous cast, and I have already, in the course of this conversation, slightly
animadverted upon their principles. The proposition they attempt to establish is that
"friendship is an affair of self-interest entirely, and that the proper motive for
engaging in it is, not in order to gratify the kind and benevolent affections, but for the
benefit of that assistance and support which is to be derived from the connection."
Accordingly they assert that those persons are most disposed to have recourse to auxiliary
alliances of this kind who are least qualified by nature or fortune to depend upon their
own strength and powers; the weaker sex, for instance, being generally more inclined to
engage in friendships than the male part of our species; and those who are depressed by
indigence, or labouring under misfortunes, than the wealthy and the prosperous.
Excellent and obliging sages these, undoubtedly. To strike out the friendly affections
from the moral world would be like extinguishing the sun in the natural, each of them
being the source of the best and most grateful satisfactions that the gods have conferred
on the sons of men. But I should be glad to know what the real value of this boasted
exemption from care, which they promise their disciples, justly amounts to? an exemption
flattering to self-love, I confess, but which, upon many occurrences in human life, should
be rejected with the utmost disdain. For nothing, surely, can be more inconsistent with a
well-poised and manly spirit, than to decline engaging in any laudable action, or to be
discouraged from persevering in it, by an apprehension of the trouble and solicitude with
which it may probably be attended. Virtue herself, indeed, ought to be totally renounced,
if it be right to avoid every possible means that may be productive of uneasiness; for who
that is actuated by her principles can observe the conduct of an opposite character,
without being affected with some degree of secret dissatisfaction? Are not the just, the
brave, and the good necessarily exposed to the disagreeable emotions of dislike and
aversion when they respectively meet with instances of fraud, of cowardice, or of
villainy? It is an essential property of every well-constituted mind to be affected with
pain, or pleasure, according to the nature of those moral appearances that present
themselves to observation.
If sensibility, therefore, be not incompatible with true wisdom (and it surely is not,
unless we suppose that philosophy deadens every finer feeling of our nature) what just
reason can be assigned why the sympathetic sufferings, which may result from friendship,
should be a sufficient inducement for banishing that generous affection from the human
breast? Extinguish all emotions of the heart and what difference will remain, I do not say
between man and brute, but between man and a mere inanimate clod? Away then with those
austere philosophers who represent virtue as hardening the soul against all the softer
impressions of humanity. The fact, certainly, is much otherwise; a truly good man is upon
many occasions extremely susceptible of tender sentiments, and his heart expands with joy
or shrinks with sorrow, as good or ill fortune accompanies his friend. Upon the whole,
then, it may fairly be concluded, that as in the case of virtue, so in that of friendship,
those painful sensations which may sometimes be produced by the one, as well as by the
other, are equally insufficient for excluding either of them from taking possession of our
bosoms.
There is a charm in virtue, as I have already had occasion to remark, that by a secret
and irresistible bias draws the general affection of those persons towards each other in
whom it appears to reside, and this instantaneous goodwill is mutually attended with a
desire of entering into a nearer and more intimate correspondence; sentiments which, at
length, by a natural and necessary consequence, give rise to particular friendships.
Strange, indeed, would it be that exalted honours, magnificent mansions, or sumptuous
apparel, not to mention other splendid objects of general admiration, should have power to
captivate the greater part of our species, and that the beauty of a virtuous mind, capable
of meeting our affection with an equal return, should not have sufficient allurements to
inspire the most ardent passion. I said "capable of meeting our affection with an
equal return;" for nothing, surely, can be more delightful than to live in a constant
interchange and vicissitude of reciprocal good offices. If we add to this, as with truth
we may, that a similitude of manners is the most powerful of all attractions, it must be
granted that the virtuous are strongly impelled towards each other by that moral tendency
and natural relationship which subsists between them.
No proposition therefore can be more evident, I think, than that the virtuous must
necessarily, and by an implanted sense in the human heart, receive impressions of goodwill
towards each other, and these are the natural source from whence genuine friendship can
only flow. Not that a good man's benevolence is by any means confined to a single object;
he extends it to every individual. For true virtue, incapable of partial and contracted
exceptions to the exercise of her benign spirit, enlarges the soul with sentiments of
universal philanthropy. How, indeed, could it be consistent with her character to take
whole nations under her protection, if even the lowest ranks of mankind, as well as the
highest, were not the proper objects of beneficence?
But to return to the more immediate object of our present consideration. They who
insist that "utility is the first and prevailing motive which induces mankind to
enter into particular friendships," appear to me to divest the association of its
most amiable and engaging principle. For to a mind rightly composed it is not so much the
benefits received as the affectionate zeal from which they flow, that gives them their
best and most valuable recommendation. It is so far, indeed, from being verified by fact,
that a sense of our wants is the original cause of forming these amicable alliances; that,
on the contrary, it is observable that none have been more distinguished in their
friendships than those whose power and opulence, but above all, whose superior virtue (a
much firmer support) have raised them above every necessity of having recourse to the
assistance of others. Perhaps, however, it may admit of a question, whether it were
desirable that one's friend should be so absolutely sufficient for himself, as to have no
wants of any kind to which his own powers were not abundantly adequate. I am sure, at
least, I should have been deprived of a most exquisite satisfaction if no opportunity had
ever offered to approve the affectionate zeal of my heart towards Scipio, and he had never
had occasion, either in his civil or military transactions, to make use of my counsel or
my aid.
The true distinction, then, in this question is, that "although friendship is
certainly productive of utility, yet utility is not the primary motive of
friendship." Those selfish sensualists, therefore, who lulled in the lap of luxury
presume to maintain the reverse, have surely no claim to attention, as they are neither
qualified by reflection nor experience to be competent judges of the subject.
Good gods! is there a man upon the face of the earth who would deliberately accept of
all the wealth and all the affluence this world can bestow if offered to him upon the
severe terms of his being unconnected with a single mortal whom he could love or by whom
he should be beloved? This would be to lead the wretched life of a detested tyrant, who,
amidst perpetual suspicions and alarms, passes his miserable days a stranger to every
tender sentiment, and utterly precluded from the heartfelt satisfactions of friendship.
For who can love the man he fears? or how can affection dwell with a consciousness of
being feared? He may be flattered, indeed, by his followers with the specious semblance of
personal attachment, but whenever he falls (and many instances there are of such a reverse
of fortune) it will appear how totally destitute he stood of every genuine friend.
Accordingly it is reported that Tarquin used to say in his exile, that "his
misfortunes had taught him to discern his real from his pretended friends, as it was now
no longer in his power to make either of them any returns." I should much wonder,
however, if, with a temper so insolent and ferocious, he ever had a sincere friend.
But as the haughtiness of Tarquin's imperious deportment rendered it impossible for him
to know the satisfaction of enjoying a faithful attachment, so it frequently happens that
the being advanced into exalted stations equally proves the occasion of excluding the
great and the powerful from possessing that inestimable felicity. Fortune, indeed, is not
only blind herself but is apt to affect her favourites with the same infirmity. Weak
minds, elated with being distinguished by her smiles, are generally disposed to assume an
arrogant and supercilious demeanour; and there is not in the whole compass of nature a
more insufferable creature than a prosperous fool. Prosperity, in truth, has been observed
to produce wonderful transformations even in persons who before had always the good sense
to deport themselves in a modest and unassuming manner; and their heads have been so
turned by the eminence to which they were raised, as to look down with neglect and
contempt on their old friends, while their new connections entirely engaged all their
attention and favour. But there cannot surely be a more flagrant instance of weakness and
folly than to employ the great advantages of extensive influence and opulent possession in
the purchase of brilliant equipages, gaudy raiment, elegant vases, together with every
other fashionable decoration which wealth and power can procure; and yet neglect to use
the means they afford of acquiring that noblest and most valuable ornament of human life,
a worthy and faithful friend! The absurdity of this conduct is the more amazing, as after
all the base sacrifices that may have been made to obtain these vain and ostentatious
embellishments, the holding of them must ever be precarious. For whoever shall invade them
with a stronger arm, to him they will infallibly belong; whereas a true friend is a
treasure which no power, how formidable soever, can be sufficient to wrest from the happy
possessor. But admitting that the favours of fortune were in their nature permanent and
irrevocable, yet how joyless and insipid must they prove if not heightened and endeared by
the society and participation of a bosom friend.
But not to pursue reflections of this sort any farther, let me rather observe that it
is necessary to settle some fixed standard or measure, by which to regulate and adjust the
kind affections in the commerce under consideration. To this intent, three different
criterions I find have been proposed. The first is, "that in all important
occurrences we should act towards our friend precisely in the same manner as if the case
were our own:" the second, "that our good offices should be exactly dealt out,
both in degree and value, by the measure and merit of those we receive from him;" and
the last, "that our conduct in relation to all his concerns should be governed by the
same kind of sentiments with which he appears to be actuated in respect to them
himself."
Now there is not one of these several rules to which I can entirely give my
approbation. The first is by no means I think just; because there are many things I would
undertake on my friend's account, which I should never prevail with myself to act on my
own. For instance, I would not scruple on his behalf to solicit, nor even to supplicate a
man of a mean and worthless character, nor to repel with peculiar acrimony and
indignation, any affront or injury that might be offered to him. And this conduct, which I
could not hold without blame in matters that merely concerned myself, I very laudably
might in those which relate to my friend. Add to this that there are many advantages which
a generous mind would willingly forego, or suffer himself to be deprived of, that his
friend might enjoy the benefit of them.
With regard to the second criterion, which determines the measure of our affection and
good offices, by exactly proportioning them to the value and quality we receive of each,
it degrades the connection into a mere mercantile account between debtor and creditor.
True friendship is animated by much too liberal and enlarged a spirit to distribute her
beneficence with a careful and penurious circumspection, lest she should bestow more
abundantly than she receives: she scorns to poise the balance so exactly equal that
nothing shall be placed in the one scale without its equivalent in the other.
The third maxim is still less admissible than either of the two former. There are some
characters who are apt to entertain too low an opinion of their personal merit, and whose
spirits are frequently much too languid and depressed to exert themselves with proper
vigour and activity for the promotion of their own interest or honours. Under
circumstances of this kind shall the zeal of a friend rise no higher than one's own, but
cautiously be restrained within the same humble level? On the contrary, he ought to
endeavour by every means in his power to dispel the gloom that overcasts the mind of his
desponding associate, and animate his hopes with livelier and more sanguine expectations.
And now, having pointed out the insufficiency of the several criteria I have mentioned,
it is necessary I should produce some other more adequate and satisfactory. But before I
deliver my opinion in respect to this article, suffer me previously to observe that Scipio
used frequently to say there never was a caution advanced more injurious to the principles
of true amity than the famous precept which advises, "so to regulate your affection
towards your friend as to remember that the time may possibly come when you shall have
reason to hate him." He could never, he said, be persuaded that Bias, a man so
distinguished for wisdom as to be ranked among the seven celebrated sages of Greece, was
really the author, as he is generally supposed, of so unworthy a precaution. It was rather
the maxim, he imagined, of some sordid wretch, or perhaps of some ambitious statesman,
who, a stranger to every nobler sentiment of the human heart, had no other object in
forming his connections but as they might prove conducive to the increase or establishment
of his power. It is impossible certainly to entertain a friendship for any man of whom you
cherish so unfavourable an opinion as to suppose he may hereafter give you cause to become
his enemy. In reality, if this axiom were justly founded, and it be right to sit thus
loose in our affections, we ought to wish that our friend might give us frequent occasions
to complain of his conduct, to lament whenever he acted in a laudable manner, and to envy
every advantage that might attend him, lest unhappily he should lay too strong a hold on
our heart. This unworthy rule, therefore, whoever was the author of it, is evidently
calculated for the utter extirpation of true amity. The more rational advice would have
been, as Scipio remarked, to be always so cautious in forming friendships as never to
place our esteem and affections where there was a probability of their being converted
into the opposite sentiments. But, at all events, if we should be so unfortunate as to
make an improper choice, it were wiser, he thought, not to look forward to possible
contingencies than to be always acting upon the defensive, and painfully guarding against
future dissensions.
I think, then, the only measures that can be properly recommended respecting our
general conduct in the article of friendship is, in the first place, to be careful that we
form the connection with men of strict and irreproachable manners; and, in the next,
frankly to lay open to each other all our thoughts, inclinations, and purposes without the
least caution, reserve, or disguise. I will venture even to add that in cases in which the
life or good fame of a friend is concerned it may be allowable to deviate a little from
the path of strict right in order to comply with his desires; provided, however, that by
this compliance our own character be not materially affected. And this is the largest
concession that should be made to friendship; for the good opinion of the public ought
never to be lightly esteemed, nor the general affection of our fellow-citizens considered
as a matter of little importance in carrying on the great affairs of the world.
Popularity, indeed, if purchased at the expense of base condescensions to the vices or the
follies of the people, is a disgrace to the possessor, but when it is the just and natural
result of a laudable and patriotic conduct, it is an acquisition which no wise man will
ever contemn.
But to return to Scipio. Friendship was his favourite topic, and I have frequently
heard him remark that there is no article in which mankind usually act with so much
negligence as in what relates to this connection. Everyone, he observed, informs himself
with great exactness of what numbers his flocks and his herds consist, but who is it that
endeavours to ascertain his real friends with the same requisite precision! Thus,
likewise, in choosing the former much caution is commonly used in order to discover those
significant marks which denote their proper qualities. Whereas, in selecting the latter,
it is seldom that any great attention is exerted to discern those moral signatures which
indicate the qualifications necessary to constitute a friend.
One of the principal ingredients to form that character is a "steadiness and
constancy of temper." This virtue, it must be confessed, is not very generally to be
found among mankind, nor is there any other means to discover in whose bosom it resides
than experience. But as this experience cannot fully be acquired till the connection is
already formed, affection is apt to take the lead of judgement, and render a previous
trial impossible. It is the part of prudence, therefore, to restrain a predilection from
carrying us precipitately into the arms of a new friend before we have, in some degree at
least, put his moral qualifications to the test. A very inconsiderable article of money
may be sufficient to prove the levity of some men's professions of friendship; whilst a
much larger sum in contest will be necessary to shake the constancy of others. But should
there be a few, perhaps, who are actuated by too generous a spirit to suffer any pecuniary
interest to stand in competition with the claims of amity, yet where shall we find the man
who will not readily surrender his friendship to his ambition when they happen to
interfere? Human nature is, in general, much too weak to resist the charms which surround
these glittering temptations; and men are apt to flatter themselves that although they
should acquire wealth or power by violating the duties of friendship, the world will be
too much dazzled by the splendour of the objects to take notice of the unworthy sacrifice
they make to obtain them. And hence it is that real, unfeigned amity is so seldom to be
met with among those who are engaged in the pursuit or possession of the honours and the
offices of the commonwealth.
To mention another species of trial which few likewise have the firmness to sustain.
How severe is it thought by the generality of mankind to take a voluntary share in the
calamities of others! And yet it is in the hour of adversity, as Ennius well observes,
that Friendship must principally prove her truth and strength. In short, the deserting of
a friend in his distress, and the neglecting of him in one's own prosperity, are the two
tests which discover the weakness and instability of most connections of this nature. To
preserve, therefore, in those seasons of probation, an immovable and unshaken fidelity is
a virtue so exceedingly rare that I had almost called it more than human.
The great support and security of that invariable constancy and steadiness which I
require in a friend is a strong and delicate sense of honour; for there can be no reliance
upon any man who is totally uninfluenced by that principle, or in whom it operates but
faintly. It is essential also, in order to form a permanent connection, that the object of
our choice should not only have the same general turn of mind with our own, but possess an
open, artless, and ingenuous temper; for where any one of those qualities are wanting,
vain would it be to expect a lasting and faithful attachment. True friendship, indeed, is
absolutely inconsistent with every species of artifice and duplicity; and it is equally
impossible it should be maintained between persons whose dispositions and general modes of
thinking do not perfectly accord. I must add, as another requisite for that stability I am
speaking of, that the party should neither be capable of taking an ill-natured
satisfaction in reprehending the frailties of his friend, nor easily induced to credit
those imputations with which the malice of others may asperse him.
These reflections sufficiently confirm that position I set out with in this
conversation, when I asserted that "true friendship can only be found among the
virtuous;" for, in the first place, sincerity is so essential a quality in forming a
good- or, if you please, a wise- man (for they are convertible terms), that a person of
that character would deem it more generous to be a declared enemy than to conceal a
rancorous heart under a smooth brow; and in the next the same generous simplicity of heart
would not only induce him to vindicate his friend against the accusation of others, but
render him incapable of cherishing in his own breast that little suspicious temper which
is ever apt to take offence and perpetually discovering some imaginary violation of amity.
Add to this that his conversation and address ought to be sweetened with a certain ease
and politeness of language and manners, that wonderfully contribute to heighten and
improve the relish of this intercourse. A solemn, severe demeanour may be very proper, I
confess, in certain characters, to give them their proper impression; but friendship
should wear a more pleasing aspect, and at all times appear with a complacent, affable,
and unconstrained countenance.
And here I cannot forbear taking notice of an extraordinary question which some, it
seems, have considered as not altogether without difficulty. It has been asked, "Is
the pleasure of acquiring a new friend, supposing him endued with virtues which render him
deserving our choice, preferable to the satisfaction of possessing an old one?" On
the same account I presume, as we prefer a young horse to one that is grown old in our
service, for never, surely, was there a doubt proposed more unworthy of a rational mind!
It is not with friendships as with acquisitions of most other kinds, which, after frequent
enjoyment, are generally attended with satiety; on the contrary, the longer we preserve
them, like those sorts of wine that will bear age, the more relishing and valuable they
become. Accordingly the proverb justly says that "one must eat many a peck of salt
with a man before he can have sufficient opportunities to approve himself a thorough
friend"- not that new connections are to be declined, provided appearances indicate
that in due time they may ripen into the happy fruits of a well contracted amity. Old
friendships, however, certainly have a claim to the superior degree of our esteem, were it
for no other reason than from that powerful impression which ancient habitudes of every
kind naturally make upon the human heart. To have recourse once more to the ludicrous
instance I just now suggested- who is there that would not prefer a horse whose paces he
had been long accustomed to before one that was new and untrained to his hand? Even things
inanimate lay a strong hold on the mind by the mere force of custom, as is observable in
that rooted affection we bear towards those places, though never so wild and uncultivated,
in which a considerable part of our earlier days have been passed.
It frequently happens that there is a great disparity between intimate friends both in
point of rank and talents. Now, under these circumstances, "he who has the advantage
should never appear sensible of his superiority." Thus Scipio, who stood
distinguished in the little group, if I may so call it, of our select associates, never
discovered in his behaviour the least consciousness of his pre-eminence over Philus,
Rupilius, Memmius, or any other of his particular connections, who were of subordinate
abilities or station. And with regard to his brother, Q. Maximus, who, although a man of
great merit, and his senior, was by no means comparable with Scipio, he always treated him
with as much deference and regard as if he had advanced as far beyond him in every other
article as in point of years; in short, it was his constant endeavour to raise all his
friends into an equal degree of consequence with himself, and his example well deserves to
be imitated. Whatever excellences, therefore, a man may possess in respect to his virtues,
his intellectual endowments, or the accidental favours of fortune, he ought generously to
communicate the benefits of them with his friends and family. Agreeably to these
principles, should he happen to be descended from an obscure ancestry, and see any of his
relations in distressed circumstances, or that require the assistance of his superior
power or abilities, it is incumbent upon him to employ his credit, his riches, and his
talents, to supply their respective deficiencies, and reflect back upon them every honour
and advantage they are capable of receiving. Dramatic writers, when the fabulous hero of
their play, after having been educated under some poor shepherd ignorant of his true
parent, is discovered to be of royal lineage, or the offspring, perhaps, of some celestial
divinity, always think it necessary to exhibit the noble youth as still retaining a
grateful affection for the honest rustic to whom he had so long supposed himself indebted
for his birth; but how much more are these sentiments due to him who has a legitimate
claim to his filial tenderness and respect!- In a word, the most sensible satisfaction
that can result from advantageous distinctions of every sort is in the pleasure a
well-constituted mind must feel by exerting them for the benefit of every individual to
whom he stands related, either by the ties of kindred or amity.
But if he who, on account of any of those superiorities which I have mentioned, appears
the most conspicuous figure in the circle of his friends, ought by no means to discover in
his behaviour towards them the least apparent sense of the eminence on which he stands, so
neither should they, on the other hand, betray sentiments of envy or dissatisfaction in
seeing him thus exalted above them. It must be acknowledged, however, that in situations
of this kind the latter are too apt to be unreasonable in their expectations; to complain
that their friend is not sufficiently attentive to their interest, and sometimes even to
break out into open remonstrances, especially if they think they are entitled to plead the
merit of any considerable services to strengthen their respective claims. But to be
capable of reproaching a man with the obligations you have conferred upon him is a
disposition exceedingly contemptible and odious; it is his part, indeed, not to forget the
good offices he has received; but ill, certainly, would it become his friend to be the
monitor for that purpose.
It is not sufficient, therefore, merely to behave with an easy condescension towards
those friends who are of less considerable note than oneself; it is incumbent upon him to
bring them forward, and, as much as possible, to raise their consequence. The apprehension
of not being treated with sufficient regard sometimes creates much uneasiness in this
connection; and those tempers are most liable to be disquieted by this suspicion that are
inclined to entertain too low an opinion of their own merit. It is the part therefore of a
generous and benevolent mind to endeavour to relieve his friend from the mortification of
these humiliating sentiments, not only by professions, but by essential services.
The proper measure by which these services ought to be regulated must be taken partly
from the extent of our own power, and partly from what the person who is the object of our
particular affection has abilities to sustain. For how unlimited soever a man's authority
and influence might be, it would be impossible to raise indiscriminately all his friends
by turns into the same honourable stations. Thus Scipio, although he had sufficient
interest to procure the consular dignity for Publius Rutilius, could not perform the same
good office for Lucius, the brother of that consul. But even admitting that you had the
arbitrary disposal of every dignity of the state, still it would be necessary well to
examine whether your friend's talents were equal to his ambition, and sufficiently
qualified him to discharge the duties of the post in question, with credit to himself and
advantage to the public.
It is proper to observe that in stating the duties and obligations of friendship, those
intimacies alone can justly be taken into consideration which are formed at a time of life
when men's characters are decided, and their judgements arrived at maturity. As to the
associates of our early years, the companions and partners of our puerile pleasures and
amusements, they can by no means, simply on that account, be deemed in the number of
friends. Indeed, if the first objects of our affection had the best claim to be received
into that rank, our nurses and our pedagogues would certainly have a right to the most
considerable share of our regard. Some degree of it is unquestionably due to them, but of
a kind, however, far different from that which is the subject of our present inquiry. The
truth is, were our early attachments the just foundation of amity, it would be impossible
that the union should ever be permanent. For our inclinations and pursuits take a
different turn as we advance into riper years; and where these are no longer similar, the
true cement of friendship is dissolved. It is the total disparity between the disposition
and manners of the virtuous and the vicious that alone renders their coalition
incompatible.
There is a certain intemperate degree of affection towards one's friends which it is
necessary to restrain, as the indulging of it has frequently, and in very important
situations, proved extremely prejudicial to their interest. To exemplify my meaning by an
instance from ancient story: Neoptolemus, would never have had the glory of taking Troy
had his friend Lycomedes, in whose court he had been educated, succeeded in his too warm
and earnest solicitations not to hazard his person in that famous expedition. There are
numberless occasions which may render an absence between friends highly expedient; and to
endeavour, from an impatience of separation, to prevent it, betrays a degree of weakness
inconsistent with that firm and manly spirit, without which it is impossible to act up to
the character of a true friend. And this is a farther confirmation of the maxim I before
insisted upon, that "in a commerce of friendship, mutual requests or concessions
should neither be made nor granted, without due and mature deliberation."
But to turn our reflections from those nobler alliances of this kind which are formed
between men of eminent and superior virtue, to that lower species which occurs in the
ordinary intercourse of the world. In connections of this nature, it sometimes
unfortunately happens, that circumstances arise which render it expedient for a man of
honour to break with his friend. Some latent vice, perhaps, or concealed ill-humour,
unexpectedly discovers itself in his behaviour either towards his friends themselves, or
towards others, which cannot be overlooked without participating his disgrace. The most
advisable and prudent conduct in situations of this kind is to suffer the intimacy to wear
out by silent and insensible degrees; or, to use a strong expression, which I remember to
have fallen from Cato upon a similar occasion, "the bands of friendship should be
gradually untied, rather than suddenly cut asunder;" always supposing, however, that
the offence is not of so atrocious a nature as to render an absolute and immediate
alienation indispensably requisite for one's own honour.
As it is not unusual (for I am still speaking of common friendships) that dissensions
arise from some extraordinary change of manners or sentiments, or from some contrariety of
opinions with respect to public affairs, the parties at variance should be much upon their
guard, lest their behaviour towards each other should give the world occasion to remark
that they have not only ceased to be cordial friends, but are become inveterate enemies,
for nothing is more indecent than to appear in open war with a man with whom one has
formerly lived upon terms of familiarity and good fellowship.
Scipio estranged himself from Quintus Pompeius, you well know, solely upon my account;
as the dissensions which arose in the republic alienated him also from my colleague
Metellus. But in both instances he preserved the dignity of his character, and never
suffered himself to be betrayed into the least improper warmth of resentment.
Upon the whole, then, the first great caution in this commerce should be studiously to
avoid all occasions of discord; but if any should necessarily arise, the next is to manage
the quarrel with so much temper and moderation that the flame of friendship shall appear
to have gently subsided, rather than to have been violently extinguished. But above all,
whenever a dissension happens between the parties, they should be particularly on their
guard against indulging a virulent animosity; as a spirit of this exasperated kind, when
unrestrained, is apt to break forth into expressions of the most malevolent contumely and
reproach. In a case of this nature, if the language should not be too insulting to be
borne, it will be prudent in consideration of their former friendship to receive it
without a return, for by this forbearance the reviler, and not the reviled, will appear
the person that most deserves to be condemned.
The sure, and indeed the only sure, means to escape the several errors and
inconveniences I have pointed out is, in the first place, "never hastily to engage in
friendships;" and, in the next, "not to enter into them with those who are
unworthy of the connection." Now, he alone is worthy whose personal merit,
independent of all other considerations, renders him the just object of affection and
esteem. Characters of this sort, it must be confessed, are extremely rare, as indeed every
other species of excellence generally is, nothing being more uncommon than to meet with
what is perfect in its kind in any subject whatsoever. But the misfortune is that the
generality of the world have no conception of any other merit than what may be turned to
interest. They love their friends upon the same principle, and in the same proportion, as
they love their flocks and their herds; giving just so much of their regard to each as is
equal to the profits they respectively produce.
Hence it is they are for ever strangers to the sweet complacencies of that generous
amity which springs from those natural instincts originally impressed upon the human soul,
and is simply desirable for its own abstracted and intrinsic value. To convince them,
however, of the possible existence at least and powerful efficacy of an affection utterly
void of all mercenary motives, they need only be referred to what passes in their own
bosoms. For the love which every man bears to himself does not certainly flow from any
expected recompense or reward, but solely from that pure and innate regard which each
individual feels for his own person. Now, if the same kind of affection be not transferred
into friendship, it will be in vain to hope for a true friend; as a true friend is no
other in effect than a second self.
To these reflections we may add that if two distinct principles universally prevail
throughout the whole animal creation, in the first place, that love of self which is
common to every sensitive being, and, in the next, a certain degree of social affection,
by which every individual of the same species is led to herd with its kind, how much more
strongly has nature infused into the heart of man, together with a principle of self-love,
this herding disposition! By the latter he is powerfully impelled not only to unite with
his species in general, but to look out for some particular associate with whom he may be
so intimately blended in sentiments and inclinations as to form, I had almost said, one
soul in two bodies.
The generality of mankind are so unreasonable, not to say arrogant, as to require that
their friends should be formed by a more perfect model than themselves are able or willing
to imitate. Whereas the first endeavour should be to acquire yourself those moral
excellences which constitute a virtuous character, and then to find an associate whose
good qualities reflect back the true image of your own. Thus would the fair fabric of
friendship be erected upon that immovable basis which I have so repeatedly recommended in
the course of this inquiry. For what should endanger its stability when a mutual affection
between the parties is blended with principles that raise them above those mean passions
by which the greater part of the world are usually governed? Being equally actuated by a
strong sense of justice and equity, they will at all times equally be zealous to exert
their utmost powers in the service of each other, well assured that nothing will ever be
required, on either side, inconsistent with the dictates of truth and honour. In
consequence of these principles they will not only love, but revere each other. I say
revere, for where reverence does not dwell with affection, amity is bereaved of her
noblest and most graceful ornament.
It is an error, therefore, that leads to the most pernicious consequences to imagine
that the laws of friendship supersede those of moral obligation, and justify a
participation with licentiousness and debauchery. Nature has sown the seed of that social
affection in the heart of man for purposes far different; not to produce confederates in
vice, but auxiliaries in virtue. Solitary and sequestered virtue is indeed incapable of
rising to the same height as when she acts in conjunction with an affectionate and
animating companion of her generous efforts. They who are thus leagued in reciprocal
support and encouragement of each other's moral ambition may be considered as setting out
together in the best company and surest road towards those desirable objects in which
nature has placed the supreme felicity of man. Yes, my friends, I will repeat it again. An
amity ennobled by these exalted principles, and directed to these laudable purposes, leads
to honour and to glory, and is productive, at the same time, of that sweet satisfaction
and complacency of mind which, in conjunction with the two former, essentially constitute
real happiness. He, therefore, who means to acquire these great and ultimate beatitudes of
human life must receive them from the hands of Virtue; as neither friendship or aught else
deservedly valuable can possibly be obtained without her influence and intervention. For
they who persuade themselves that they may possess a true friend, at least, where moral
merit has no share in producing the connection, will find themselves miserably deceived
whenever some severe misfortune shall give them occasion to make the decisive experiment.
It is a maxim, then, which cannot too frequently nor too strongly be inculcated, that
in forming the attachment we are speaking of "we should never suffer affection to
take root in our hearts before judgement has time to interpose;" for in no
circumstance of our lives can a hasty and inconsiderate choice be attended with more fatal
consequences. But the folly is that we generally forbear to deliberate till consideration
can nothing avail; and hence it is that after the association has been habitually formed,
and many good offices perhaps have been mutually interchanged, some latent flaw becomes
visible, and the union which was precipitately cemented is no less suddenly dissolved. Now
this inattention is the more blameworthy and astonishing, as friendship is the only
article among the different objects of human pursuit the value and importance of which is
unanimously, and without any exception, acknowledged. I say the only article, for even
Virtue herself is not universally held in esteem; and there are many who represent all her
high pretensions as mere affectation and ostentatious parade. There are, too, whose
moderate desires are satisfied with humble meals and lowly roofs, and who look upon riches
with sovereign contempt. How many are there who think that those honours which inflame the
ambition of others are of all human vanities the most frivolous! In like manner throughout
all the rest of those several objects which divide the passions of mankind, what some
admire others most heartily despise. Whereas, with respect to friendship, there are not
two different opinions; the active and the ambitious, the retired and the contemplative,
even the sensualist himself (if he would indulge his appetites with any degree of
refinement) unanimously acknowledge that without friendship life can have no true
enjoyment. She insinuates herself, indeed, by I know not what irresistible charm into the
hearts of every rank and class of men, and mixes in all the various modes and arrangements
of human life. Were there a man in the world of so morose and acrimonious a disposition as
to shun (agreeably to what we are told of a certain Timon of Athens) all communication
with his species, even such an odious misanthropist could not endure to be excluded from
one associate, at least, before whom he might discharge the whole rancour and virulence of
his heart. The truth is, if we could suppose ourselves transported by some divinity into a
solitude replete with all the delicacies which the heart of man could desire, but secluded
at the same time from every possible intercourse with our kind, there is not a person in
the world of so unsocial and savage a temper as to be capable under these forlorn
circumstances of relishing any enjoyment. Accordingly, nothing is more true than what
Archytas of Tarentum, if I mistake not, is reported to have said, "That were a man to
be carried up into heaven, and the beauties of universal nature displayed to his view, he
would receive but little pleasure from the wonderful scene if there were none to whom he
might relate the glories he had beheld." Human nature, indeed, is so constituted as
to be incapable of lonely satisfactions; man, like those plants which are formed to
embrace others, is led by an instinctive impulse to recline on his species, and he finds
his happiest and most secure support in the arms of a faithful friend. But although in
this instance, as in every other, Nature points out her tendencies by a variety of
unambiguous notices, and proclaims her meaning in the most emphatical language, yet, I
know not how it is, we seem strangely blind to her clearest signals, and deaf to her
loudest voice!
The offices of friendship are so numerous, and of such different kinds, that many
little disgusts may arise in the exercise of them, which a man of true good sense will
either avoid, extenuate, or be contented to bear, as the nature and circumstances of the
case may render most expedient. But there is one particular duty which may frequently
occur, and which he will at all hazards of offence discharge, as it is never to be
superseded consistently with the truth and fidelity he owes to the connection; I mean the
duty of admonishing, and even reproving, his friend, an office which, whenever it is
affectionately exercised, should be kindly received. It must be confessed, however, that
the remark of my dramatic friend is too frequently verified, who observes in his Andria
that "obsequiousness conciliates friends, but truth creates enemies." When truth
proves the bane of friendship we may have reason, indeed, to be sorry for the unnatural
consequence; but we should have cause to be more sorry if we suffered a friend by a
culpable indulgence to expose his character to just reproach. Upon these delicate
occasions, however, we should be particularly careful to deliver our advice or reproof
without the least appearance of acrimony or insult. Let our obsequiousness (to repeat the
significant expression of Terence) extend as far as gentleness of manners and the rules of
good breeding require; but far let it be from seducing us to flatter either vice or
misconduct, a meanness unworthy, not only of every man who claims to himself the title of
friend, but of every liberal and ingenuous mind. Shall we live with a friend upon the same
cautious terms we must submit to live with a tyrant? Desperate indeed must that man's
moral disorders be who shuts his ears to the voice of truth when delivered by a sincere
and affectionate monitor! It was a saying of Cato (and he had many that well deserve to be
remembered) that "some men were more obliged to their inveterate enemies than to
their complaisant friends, as they frequently heard the truth from the one, but never from
the other;" in short, the great absurdity is that men are apt, in the instances under
consideration, to direct both their dislike and their approbation to the wrong object.
They hate the admonition, and love the vice; whereas they ought, on the contrary, to hate
the vice, and love the admonition.
As nothing, therefore, is more suitable to the genius and spirit of true friendship
than to give and receive advice- to give it, I mean, with freedom, but without rudeness,
and to receive it not only without reluctance, but with patience- so nothing is more
injurious to the connection than flattery, compliment, or adulation. I multiply these
equivalent terms, in order to mark with stronger emphasis the detestable and dangerous
character of those pretended friends, who, strangers to the dictates of truth, constantly
hold the language which they are sure will be most acceptable. But if counterfeit
appearances of every species are base and dishonest attempts to impose upon the judgement
of the unwary, they are more peculiarly so in a commerce of amity, and absolutely
repugnant to the vital principle of that sacred relation; for, without sincerity,
friendship is a mere name, that has neither meaning nor efficacy. It is the essential
property of this alliance to form so intimate a coalition between the parties that they
seem to be actuated, as it were, by one common spirit; but it is impossible that this
unity of mind should be produced when there is one of them in which it does not subsist
even in his own person, who, with a duplicity of soul which sets him at perpetual variance
from himself, assumes opposite sentiments and opinions, as is most convenient to his
present purpose. Nothing in nature, indeed, is so pliant and versatile as the genius of a
flatterer, who always acts and pretends to think in conformity, not only to the will and
inclination, but even to the looks and countenances of another. Like Gnatho in the play,
he can prevail with himself to say either yes or no, as best suits the occasion; and he
lays it down as his general maxim, never to dissent from the company.
Terence exposes this baseness of soul in the person of a contemptible parasite; but how
much more contemptible does it appear when exhibited in the conduct of one who dares usurp
the name of friend! The mischief is that there are many Gnathos, of a much superior rank
and consequence, to be met with in the commerce of the world; and it is from this class of
flatterers that the greatest danger is to be apprehended, as the poison they administer
receives additional strength and efficacy from the hand that conveys it. Nevertheless, a
man of good sense and discernment, if he will exert the requisite attention, will always
be able to distinguish the complaisant from the sincere friend, with the same certainty
that he may in any other subject perceive the difference between the counterfeit and the
genuine. It is observable in the general assemblies of the people, composed as they are of
the most ignorant part of the community, that even the populace know how to discriminate
the soothing insidious orator, whose only aim is to acquire popularity, from the firm,
inflexible, and undesigning patriot. A remarkable instance of this kind lately appeared,
when Caius Papirius proposed a law to enable the Tribunes, at the expiration of their
office, to be re-elected for the ensuing year, upon which he employed every insinuating
art of address to seduce and captivate the ears of the multitude. Not to mention the part
I took myself upon that occasion, it was opposed by Scipio with such a commanding flow of
eloquence, and invincible strength of reason, that this popular law was rejected by the
very populace themselves. But you were present at the debate, and his speech is in
everybody's hands. I cannot forbear giving you another instance likewise, although it is
one particularly relating to myself. You may remember that in the consulate of Lucius
Mancinus and Quintus Maximus, the brother of Scipio, a very popular law was moved by Caius
Licinius, who proposed that the privilege of electing to the sacerdotal offices should be
transferred from the respective colleges to the general assemblies of the people; and let
me remark, by the way, it was upon this occasion that Licinius, in complaisance to the
people, first introduced the practice of addressing them with his back turned upon the
Senate-house. Nevertheless, the pious reverence which is due to every circumstance that
concerns the worship of the immortal gods, together with the arguments by which I exposed
the impropriety of his motion, prevailed over all the specious colourings of his plausible
oratory. This affair was agitated during my Praetorship, and I was not chosen Consul till
five years afterwards, so that it is evident I owed my success more to the force of truth
than to the influence of station.
Now, if in popular assemblies, a scene, of all others, in which fiction and fallacious
representations have the greatest scope, and are usually employed with the most success,
Truth, when fairly stated and properly enforced, could thus prevail, with how much more
reason may she expect to be favourably heard in an intercourse of friendship, the very
essence whereof depends upon sincerity! In a commerce of this nature, indeed, if you are
not permitted to see into the most hidden recesses of your friend's bosom, and do not with
equal unreserve lay open to him the full exposure of your own, there can be no just ground
for confidence on either side, nor even sufficient evidence that any affection subsists
between you. With respect, however, to that particular deviation from truth which is the
object of our present consideration, it must be acknowledged that, noxious as flattery is,
no man was ever infected by it who did not love and encourage the offering. Accordingly,
there is no turn of mind so liable to be tainted by this sort of poison as a disposition
to entertain too high conceit of one's own merit. I must confess, at the same time, that
conscious virtue cannot be void of self-esteem, as well knowing her own worth, and how
amiable her form appears. But the pretenders to virtue are much more numerous than the
really virtuous, and it is of the former only that I am now speaking. Men of that
character are particularly delighted with adulation, as confirming their title, they
imagine, to the merit they so vainly claim.
It appears then that genuine friendship cannot possibly exist where one of the parties
is unwilling to hear truth and the other is equally indisposed to speak it. Friends of
this kind are by no means uncommon in the world, and, indeed, there would be neither
propriety nor humour in the character of a parasite as exhibited by our comic writers,
were a vain-glorious soldier, for example, never to be met with in real life. When the
braggart captain in the play asks Gnatho, "Did Thais return me many thanks, say
you?" An artless man would have thought it sufficient to answer "many," but
the cunning sycophant replies, "immense, innumerable;" for a skilful flatterer
perfectly well knows that a pleasing circumstance can never be too much exaggerated in the
opinion of the person upon whom he means to practise.
But although flattery chiefly operates on those whose vanity encourages and invites the
exercise of it, yet these are not the only sort of men upon whom it may impose. There is a
delicate and refined species of adulation, against which even better understandings may
not improperly be cautioned. Gross and open obsequiousness can deceive none but fools, but
there is a latent and more ensnaring manner of insinuation, against which a man of sense
ought to be particularly on his guard. A flatterer of this insidious and concealed kind
will frequently gain his point even by opposition; he will affect to maintain opinions
which he does not hold, and dispute in order to give you the credit of a victory. But
nothing is more humiliating than to be thus egregiously duped. It is necessary, therefore,
to exert the utmost attention against falling into these covert snares, lest we should
have reason to say, with one of the characters in the Heiress, "Never was old dotard
on the stage so finely played upon as I have been by you to-day." This, indeed, would
be to exhibit the mortifying personage of one of those ridiculous old men in our comedies,
who listen with easy faith to every specious tale contrived to impose on their credulity.
But I have insensibly wandered from the principal object I had in view, and instead of
proceeding to consider Friendship as it appears in perfect characters (perfect, I mean, as
far as is consistent with the frailty of human nature), I am talking of it as it is seen
in the vain and frivolous connections of the world. I return therefore to the original
subject of our conversation, and which it is now time to draw towards a conclusion.
It is virtue, yes, let me repeat it again, it is virtue alone that can give birth,
strength, and permanency to friendship. For virtue is a uniform and steady principle ever
acting consistently with itself. They whose souls are warmed by its generous flame not
only improve their common ardour by communication, but naturally kindle into that pure
affection of the heart towards each other which is distinguished by the name of amity, and
is wholly unmixed with every kind and degree of selfish considerations. But although
genuine friendship is solely the offspring of pure goodwill, and no motive of advantage or
utility has the least share in its production, yet many very beneficial consequences
result from it, how little soever those consequences are the objects primarily in view. Of
this disinterested nature was that affection which, in the earlier season of my life,
united me with those venerable old men, Paulus, Cato, and Gallus, as also with Nasica and
Gracchus, the father-in-law of my late honoured and lamented friend. That the principle I
have assigned is really the leading motive of true friendship becomes still more evident
when the connection is formed between men of equal years, as in that which subsisted
between Scipio, Furius, Rupilius, Memmius, and myself. Not that old men may not also find
a generous satisfaction in living upon terms of disinterested intimacy with the young, as
I have the happiness to experience in the friendship I enjoy, not only with both of you
and Q. Tubero, but even with Publius Rutilius and Aulus Virginius, who are much your
juniors. One would wish, indeed, to preserve those friends through all the successive
periods of our days with whom we first set out together in this our journey through the
world. But since man holds all his possessions by a very precarious and uncertain tenure
we should endeavour, as our old friends drop off, to repair their loss by new
acquisitions, lest one should be so unhappy as to stand in his old age a solitary,
unconnected individual, bereaved of every person whom he loves and by whom he is beloved.
For without a proper and particular object upon which to exercise the kind and benevolent
affections, life is destitute of every enjoyment that can render it justly desirable.
As to the loss I have myself sustained by the death of Scipio, who was so suddenly and
so unexpectedly snatched from me, he is still present in my mind's eye, and present he
will ever remain; for it was his virtues that endeared him to my heart, and his virtues
can never die. But not by me only, who had the happiness to enjoy a daily intercourse with
them, will they be held in perpetual remembrance; his name will be mentioned with honour
to the latest posterity, and no man will hereafter either meditate or execute any great
and laudable achievement without proposing to himself the conduct of Scipio as his
brightest and most animating exemplar. For myself, among all the blessings for which I am
indebted either to nature or to fortune, there is not one upon which I set so high a value
as the friendship in which I lived with Scipio. In him I found a constant associate in
public affairs, a faithful counsellor in private life, and upon all occasions the
confidential friend from whom my soul received her truest and most solid satisfactions. I
am not conscious of ever having given him even the slightest cause of offence; and sure I
am that I never heard a word proceed from his lips which I had reason to be sorry he had
uttered. We not only lived under the same roof, and ate at the same frugal table, but
advanced together through the several military services; and even in our travels, as well
as during our recess into the country, we were constant and inseparable companions- not to
mention that we were equally animated with the same ardent love of science, and jointly
passed every hour of our privacy and leisure in one common pursuit of useful knowledge. If
the power of recollecting these pleasing circumstances had become extinct in me at the
same time that he expired, it would have been impossible that I could have supported the
loss of a man whom I so tenderly loved, and with whom I was so intimately united; but they
are indelibly stamped upon my mind, and the oftener they recur to my thoughts the more
lively is the impression they leave behind them. But, were I totally deprived of these
soothing reflections, my age, however, would afford me great consolation, as I cannot, by
the common course of nature, long be separated from him, and short pains, how severe
soever they may prove, may well be endured.
I have thus laid before you all that occurs to me on the subject concerning which you
desired my sentiments. Let me only again exhort you to be well persuaded that there can be
no real friendship which is not founded upon virtuous principles, nor any acquisition,
virtue alone excepted, preferable to a true friend.
