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People with a History: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Trans* History Sourcebook
Edward Carpenter:
IOLÄUS: AN ANTHOLOGY OF FRIENDSHIP (1908):
Nineteenth Century Europe
The full text of IOLÄUS is available.
Page numeration is indicated by [square brackets]
[Introduction: Edward Carpenter's Ioläus is
an attempt to provide a historical context for male friendship.
One should not be misled, however. Carpenter, one of the earliest
English homosexual activists, is writing about homosexual relationships
and trying to provide a historical grounding for them. As such
his work is of interest not only for its references, but also
as evidence of the strategies of the early gay movement .]
V: THE RENAISSANCE AND MODERN TIMES
[138]
WILLIAM PENN ( b. 1644 ) the founder of Pennsylvania, and
of Philadelphia, "The city of brotherly love " was a
great believer in friendship. He says in his Fruits of Solitude:
-
" A true friend unbosoms freely, advises justly, assists
readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, defends courageously,
and continues a friend unchangeably.... In short, choose a friend
as thou dost a wife, till death separate you. . . . Death cannot
kill what never dies. Nor can spirits ever be divided that love
and live in the same Divine Principle; the Root and Record of
their friendship.... This is the comfort of friends, that though
they may be said to die, yet their friendship and society are,
in the best sense, ever present, because immortal."
IT may be worth while here to insert two passages from Macaulay's History of England. The first deals with the remarkable
intimacy between the Young Prince William of Orange and
" a gentleman of his household " named Bentinck. William's
escape from a malignant attack of small-pox
" was attributed partly to his own singular equanimity, and
partly to the intrepid and indefatigable friendship of Bentinck.
From the hands of [139] Bentinck alone William took food and medicineby
Bentinck alone William was lifted from his bed and laid down in
it. ' Whether Bentinck slept or not while I was ill,' said William
to Temple with great tenderness, ' I know not. But this I know,
that through sixteen days and nights, I never once called for
anything but that Bentinck was instantly at my side.' Before the
faithful servant had entirely performed this task, he had himself
caught the contagion." ( But he recovered. )
History of England, ch. vii.
The second passage describes the devotion of the Princess Anne
(daughter of James II and afterwards Queen Anne) to Lady Churchill-a
devotion which had considerable influence on the political situation.
" It is a common observation that differences of taste, understanding,
and disposition are no impediments to friendship, and that the
closest intimacies often exist between minds, each of which supplies
what is wanting in the other. Lady Churchill was loved and even
worshipped by Anne. The princess could not live apart from the
object of her romantic fondness. She married, and was a faithful
and even an affectionate wife; but Prince George, a dull man,
whose chief pleasures were derived from his dinner and his bottle,
acquired over her no intluence comparable to that exercised by
her female friend, and soon gave him [140] self up with stupid
patience to the dominion of that vehement and commanding spirit
by which his wife was governed."
History of England, ch vii
THAT the tradition of Greek thought was not quite obliterated
in England by the Puritan movement is shown by the writings of
Archbishop Potter, who speaks with approval of friendship as followed
among the Greeks, " not only in private, but by the public
allowance and encouragement of their laws; for they thought there
could be no means more effectual to excite their youth to noble
undertakings, nor any greater security to their commonwealths,
than this generous passion." He then quotes Athenaeus, saying
that " free commonwealths and all those states that consulted
the advancement of their own honor, seem to have been unanimous
in establishing laws to encourage and reward it." John Potter, Antiquities of Greece, 1698.
GERMANY
The eighteenth century however in England, with its leaning towards
formalism, was perhaps not favorable to the understanding of the
Greek spirit. At any rate there is not much to show in that direction.
In Germany the classical tradition in art was revived by Raphael
Mengs, while [141] Winckelmann, the art critic, showed
himself one of the best interpreters of the Hellenic world that
has ever lived. His letters, too, to his personal friends, breathe
a spirit of the tenderest and most passionate devotion: "
Friendship," he says, "without love is mere acquaintanceship."
Winckelmann met, in 1762, in Rome, a young nobleman, Reinhold
von Berg, to whom he became deeply attached:
" Almost as first there sprang up, on Winckelmann's side,
an attachment as romantic, emotional and passionate as love. In
a letter to his friend he said, ' From the first moment an indescribable
attraction towards you, excited by something more than form and
feature, caused me to catch an echo of that harmony which passes
human understanding and which is the music of the everlasting
concord of things.... I was aware of the deep consent of our spirits,
the instant I saw you.' And in a later letter: ' No name by which
I might call you would be sweet enough or sufficient for my love;
all that I could say would be far too feeble to give utterance
to my heart and soul. Truly friendship came from heaven and was
not created by mere human impulses.... My one friend, I love you
more than any living thing, and time nor chance nor age can ever
lessen this love."
Ludwig Frey, Der Eros und die Kunst, Leipzig, 1898, p 211
[142] GOETHE, that universal genius, has some excellent thoughts
on this subject; speaking of Winckelmann he says:
"The affinities of human beings in Antiquity give evidence
of an important distinction between ancient and modern times.
The relation to women, which among us has become so tender and
full of meaning, hardly aspired in those days beyond the limits
of vulgar necessity. The relation of parents to their children
seems in some respects to have been tenderer. More to them than
all other feelings was the friendship between persons of the male
sex (though female friends, too, like Chloris and Thyia, were
inseparable, even in Hades). In these cases of union between two
youths, the passionate fulfilment of loving duties, the joys of
inseparableness, the devotion of one for the other, the unavoided
companionship in death, fill us with astonishment; indeed one
feels oneself ashamed when poets, historians, philosophers and
orators overwhelm us with Legends, anecdotes, sentiments and ideas,
containing such meaning and feeling. Winckelmann felt himself
born for a friendship of this kind-not only as capable of it,
but in the highest degree in need of it; he became conscious of
his true self only under the form of friendship."
Goethe on Winckelmann.
[143] Some of Goethe's poems further illustrate this subject.
In the Saki Nameh of his West-Oestlichen Divan he has followed
the style of a certain class of Persian love-songs. The following
poem is from a Cupbearer to his Master:
" In the market-place appearing
None thy Poet-fame dispute;
I too gladly hear thy singing,
I too hearken when thou'rt mute.
Yet I love thee, when thou printest
Kisses not to be forgot,
Best of all, for words may perish,
But a kiss lives on in thought.
Rhymes on rhymes fair meaning carry,
Thoughts to think bring deeper joy;
Sing to other folk, but tarry
Silent with thy serving-boy."
JOHANN GOTTFRIED VON HERDER (1744-1803 ) as theologian,
philosopher, friend of Goethe, Court preacher at Weimar, and author
of Ideas on the Philosophy of History, has had a great
and enduring reputation. The following extract is from the just-mentioned
book :
HERDER ON GREEK FRIENDSHIP
" Never has a branch born finer fruit than that little branch
of Olive, Ivy, and Pine, which was the victor's crown among the
Greeks. It gave to the young men good looks, good health, and
good spirits; it made their limbs nimble, graceful and well-formed;
in their souls it lighted the first sparks of the desire for good
name, the love of fame even, and stamped on them the inviolable
temper of men who live for their city and their country. Finally,
what was most precious, it laid the foundation in their characters
of that predilection for male society and friendship which so
markedly dlstinguishes the Greeks. In Greece, woman was not the
one prize of life for which the young man fought and strove; the
loveliest Helen could only mould the spirit of one Paris, even
though her beauty might be the coveted obect of ali manly valor.
The feminine sex, despite the splendid examples of every virtue
that it exhibited in Greece, as elsewhere, remained there only
a secondary object of the manly life. The thoughts of aspirlng
youths reached towards something higher. The bond of friendship
which they knitted among themselves or with grown men, compelled
them into a school which Aspasia herself could hardly have introduced
them to; so that in many of the states of Greece manly love became
surrounded and accompanied by those intelligent and educational
influences, that permanence of character and devotion, whose sentiment
[145] and meaning we read of in Plato almost as if in a romance
from some far planet.
SCHILLER, the great German poet, had an enthusiastic appreciation
of friendship-love, as can be seen from his poems, " Freundschaft
" and " Die Burgschaft," and others of his writings.
His tragedy Don Karlos turns upon the death of one friend for
the sake of another. The young Infanta of Spain, Don Karlos, alienated
by the severities of his father, Phillip II, enters into plots
and intrigues, from the consequences of which he is only saved
by his devoted companion, the Marquis of Posa, who, by making
himself out the guilty party, dies in the Prince's stead. Early
in the play (Act I., Scene ii.) the attachment between the two
is outlined:
Karlos.
Oh, if indeed 'tis true -
What my heart says-that out of millions, thou
Hast been decreed at last to understand me;
If it be true that Nature all-creative
In moulding Karlos copied Roderick,
And strung the tender chords of our two souls
Harmonious in the morning of our lives;
If even a tear that eases thus my sorrow
Is dearer to thee than my father's favor
[146]
Marquis of Posa.
Oh, dearer than the world !
Karlos.
So low, so low
Have I now fallen, have become so needy,
That of our early childish years together
I must remind thee-must indeed entreat
Thy payment of those long-forgotten debts
Which thou, while yet in sailor garb, contractedst;
When thou and I, two boys of venturous habit,
Grew up, and side by side, in brotherhood.
No grief oppressed me then-save that thy spirit
Seemed so eclipsing mine-until at length
I boldly dared to love thee without limit,
Since to be like thee was beyond my dreams.
Then I began, with myriad tenderness
And brother-love most loyal, to torment thee;
And thou, proud heart, returned it all so coldly.
Oft would I stand there-and thou saw'st it not !
And hot and heavy tear-drops from my eyes
Hung, when perchance, thou, Roderick, hastening past me,
Would'st throw thy arms about some lesser playmate.
" Why only these? " I cried, and wept aloud
Am I not also worthy of thy heart? "
But thou [147] So cold and serious before me kneeling,
" Homage " thou said'st, " to the King's son is
due."
Marquis.
A truce, O Prince, to all these tales of childhood,
Thy make my cheeks red even now with shame !
Karlos.
And this from thee indeed I did not merit.
Contemn thou could'st, and even rend my heart,
But ne'er estrange. Three times thou did'st repulse
The young Prince from thee; thrice again he came
As suppliant to thee-to entreat thy love,
And urgently to press his love upon thee.
But that which Karlos could not, chance effected.
(The story is then related of how as a boy he took on himself
the blame for a misdemeanor of Roderick's, and was severely punished
by his royal father)
Under the pitiless strokes my blood flowed red;
I looked on thee and wept not. But the King
Was angered by my boyish heroism,
And for twelve terrible hours emprisoned me
[148]In a dark dungeon, to repent thereof.
So proud and fierce v~as my determination
By Roderick to be beloved. Thou cam'st,
And loudly weeping at my feet did'st fall,
Yes, yes," did'st cry, " my pride is overcome.
One day; when thou art king, I will repay thee."
Marquis (giving his hand.)
I will so, Karl. My boyish affidavit
As man I now renew; I will repay;
My hour will also strike, Perchane.
(The hour comes, when Roderick takes on himself the blame for
an intrigue of Don Karlos with the Queen and William of Orange.
He writes a letter to the latter, and allows it purposely to fall
into the King's hands. He is assassinated by order of the King;
and the following speech over his body (Act V., Scene iv.) is
made to the King by Don Karlos, who thenceforth abjures all love
except for the memory of his friend.)
Karlos (to the King.)
The dead man was my friend. And would you know
Wherefore he died? He perished for my sake.
Yes, Sire, for we were brothers I brothers by
[149] A nobler chain than Nature ever forges.
Love was his glorious life-career. And love
For me, his great, his glorious death. Mine was he.
What time his lowly bearing puffed you up,
What time his gay persuasive eloquence
Made easy sport of your proud giant-spirit.
You thought to dominate him quite-and were
The obedient creature of his deeper plans.
That I am prisoner, is the schemed result
Of his great friendship. To achieve my safety
He wrote that letter to the Prince of Orange -
O God! the first, last falsehood of his life.
To rescue me he went to meet the Fate
Which he has suffered. With your gracious favors
You loaded him. He died for me. On him
You Pressed the favors of your heart and friendship.
Your sceptre was the plaything of his hands;
He threw it from him. and for me he died.
THERE is little, I believe, in the historical facts relating to
Don Karlos to justify this tale of friendship; but there seems
great probability that the incidents were transferred by [150]
Schiller from the history of Frederick the Great, of Prussia,
when a youth at his father's court. The devotion that existed
between the young Frederick and Lieut. Von Katte, the anger and
severities of the royal parent, the supposed conspiracy, the imprisonment
of Frederick, and the execution of Von Katte, are all reproduced
in Schiller's play.
Von Katte was a young man of good family and strange but
charming personality, who, as soon as he came to Court, being
three or four years older than Frederick, exercised a strong attraction
upon the latter. The two were always together, and finally, enraged
by the harshness of the royal father, they plotted flight to England.
They were arrested, and Katte, accused of treason to the throne,
was condemned to death. That this sentence was pronounced, not
so much for political reasons, as in order to do despite to the
affection between him and the Crown Prince, is strongly suggested
by the circumstances. Von Katte was sent from a distance in order
to be executed at Custrin, in the fortress where the Prince was
confined, and with instructions that the latter should witness
his execution. Carlyle, in his life of Frederick II, says:
[151]
" Katte wore, by order, a brown dress exactly like the Prince's;
the Prince is already brought down into a lower room to see Katte
as he passes (to see Katte die has been the royal order, but they
smuggled that into abeyance), and Katte knows he shall see him."
[Besserer, the chaplain of the Garrison, quoted by Carlyle, describing
the scene as they approached the Castle, says: ' Here, after long
wistful looking about, he did get sight of his beloved Jonathan
at a window in the Castle, from whom, he, with politest and most
tender expression, speaking in French, took leave, with no little
emotion of sorrow.] " Pardonnez moi, mon cher Katte,"
cried Friedrich. " La mort est douce pour un si aimable Prince,"
said Katte, and fared on; round some angle of the Fortress it
appears; not in sight of Friedrich, who sank in a faint, and had
seen his last glimpse of Katte in this world."
Life of Frederick II, vol. 2, p. 489.
Frederick's grief and despair were extreme for a time. Then his
royal father found him a wife, in the Princess Elizabeth of Brunswick,
whom he obediently married, but in whom he showed little interest-their
meetings growing rarer and rarer till at last they became merely
formal. Later, and after his accession, he spent most of his leisure
time when away from the cares of war and political reorganization,
at his retreat at Sans-Souci, afar [152] from feminine society
(a fact which provoked Voltaire's sarcasms), and in the society
of his philosophic and military friends, to many of whom he was
much attached. Von Kupffer has unearthed from his poems printed
at Sans-Souci in 1750 the following, addressed to Count Von Kaiserlinck,
a favorite companion, on whom he bestowed the by-name of Cesarion:
" Cesarion, let us keep unspoiled
Our faith, and be true friends,
And pair our lives like noble Greeks,
And to like noble ends !
That friend from friend may never hide
A fault through weakness or thro' pride,
Or sentiment that cloys
Thus gold in fire the brighter glows,
And far more rare and precious grows,
Refined from all alloys."
There is also in the same collection a long and beautiful ode
" To the shades of Cesarion," of which the following
are a few lines:
" O God I how hard the word of Fate!
Cesarion dead I His happy days
Death to the grave has consecrate.
His charm I mourn and gentle grace.
He's dead-my tender, faithful mate !
A thousand daggers pierce my beart:
[153] It trembles, torn with grief and pain.
He's gone! the dawn comes not again!
Thy grave's the goal of my heart's strife;
Holy shall thy remembrance be;
To thee I poured out love in life;
And love in death I vow to thee."
ELISAR VON KUPFFER, in the introduction to his Anthology,
from which I have already quoted a few extracts, speaks at some
length on the great ethical and political significance of a loving
comradeship. He says:
" In open linkage and attachment to each other ought youth
to rejoice in youth. In attachment to another, one loses the habit
of thinking only of self. In the love and tender care and instruction
that the youth receives from his lover he learns from boyhood
up to recognize the good of self-sacrifice and devotion; and in
the love which he shows, whether in the smaller or the greater
offerings of an intimate friendship, he accustoms himself to self-sacrifice
for another. In this way the young man is early nurtured into
a member of the Community-to a useful member and not one who has
self and only self in mind. And how much closer thus does unit
grow to unit, till indeed the whole comes to feel itself a whole
I . . .
" The close relationship between two men has this further
result-that folk instinctively and [154] not without reason judge
of one from the other; so that should the one be worthy and honorable,
he naturally will be anxious that the other should not bring a
slur upon him. Thus there arises a bond of moral responsibility
with regard to character. And what can be of more advantage to
the community than that the individual members should feel responsible
for each other ? Surely it is just that which constitutes national
sentiment, and the strength of a people, namely, that it should
form a complete whole in itself, where each unit feels locked
and linked with the others. Such unions may be of the greatest
social value, as in the case of the family. And it is especially
in the hour of danger that the effect of this unity of feeling
shows itself; for where one man stands or falls with another,
where glad self-sacrifice, learnt in boyhood, becomes so to speak,
a warm-hearted instinct, there is developed a power of incalculable
import, a power that folly alone can hold cheap. Indeed, the unconquerable
force of these unions has already been practically shown, as in
the Sacred Band of the Thebans who fought to its bitter end the
battle of Leuctra; and, psychologically speaking, the explanation
is most natural; for where one Derson feels himself united, body
and soul to another, is it not natural that he should put forth
all his powers in order to help the other, in order to manifest
his love for him in every way? If any one cannot or will not perceive
this we may indeed well doubt either [155] the intelligence of
his head or the morality of his heart."
FRIEDRICH RUCKERT (1788 1866), Professor of Oriental Literature
in Berlin, wrote verses in memory of his friend Joseph Kopp:
" How shall I know myself without thee,
Who knew myself as part of thee?
I only know one half is vanished,
And half alone is left, of me.
Never again my proper mind
I'll know; for thee I'll never find.
" Never again, out there in space,
I'll find thee; but here, deep within.
I see, tho' not in dreams, thy face;
My waking eyes thy presence win,
And all my thought and poesy
Are but my offering to thee.
******
" My Jonathan, now hast thou fled,
And I to weep thy loss remain;
If David's harp might grace my hands
O might it help to ease my pain !
My friend, my Joseph, true of faith,
Tn life so loved-so loved in death."
And the following are by Joseph Kitir, an Austrian poet:-
[156]
ROUGH WEATHER FRIENDS
" Not where breathing roses bless
The night, or summer airs caress;
Not in Nature's sacred grove;
No, but at a tap-room table,
Sitting in the window-gable
Did we plight our troth of love.
" No fair lime tree's roofing shade
By the spring wind gently swayed
Formed for us a bower of bliss;
No, stormbound, but love-intent,
There against the damp wall bent
We two bartered kiss tor kiss.
"Therefore shalt thou, Love so rare
(Child of storms and wintry air)
Not like Spring's sweet fragrance fade.
Even in sorrow thou shalt flourish,
Frost shall not make thee afraid,
And in storms thou shalt not perish."
COUNT AUGUST VON PLATEN (born at Ansbach in Bavaria, 1796)
was in respect of style one of the most finished and perfect of
German poets. His nature (which was refined and self-controlled)
led him from the first to form the most romantic attachments with
men. He freely and openly expressed his feelings in his verses;
of which a great number are practically [157] love-poems addressed
to his friends. They include a series of twenty-six sonnets to
one of his friends, Karl Theodor German. Of these Raffalovich
says (Uranisme, Lyons, 1 896, p. 35 I ):
" These sonnets to Karl Theodor German are among the most
beautiful in German literature. Platen in the sonnet surpasses
all the German poets, including even Goethe. In them perfection
of form, and poignancy or wealth of emotion are illustrated to
perfection. The sentiment is similar to that of the sonnets of
Shakespeare (with their personal note), and the form that of the
Italian or French sonnet."
Platen, however, was unfortunate in his affairs of the heart,
and there is a refrain of suffering in his poems which comes out
characteristically in the following sonnet:
"Since pain is life and life is only pain,
Why he can feel what I have felt before,
Who seeing joy sees it again no more
The instant he attempts his joy to gain;
Who, caught as in a labyrinth unaware,
The outlet from it never more can find;
Whom love seems only for this end to bind-
In order to hand over to Despair;
Who prays each dizzy lightning-flash to end him,
Each star to reel his thread of life away
[158] With all the torments which his heart are rending;
And envies even the dead their pillow of clay,
Where Love no more their foolish brains can steal.
He who knows this, knows me, and what I feel."
One of Platen's sonnets deals with an incident, referred to in
an earlier page, namely, the death of the poet Pindar in the theatre,
in the arms of his young friend Theoxenos:
"Oh ! when I die, would I might fade away
Like the pale stars, swiftly and silently,
Would that death's messenger might come to
As once it came to Pindar-so they say
Not that I would in Life, or in my Verse
With him, the great Incomparable, compare;
Only his Death, my friend, I ask to share:
But let me now the gracious tale rehearse.
Long at the play, hearing sweet Harmony,
He sat; and wearied out at last, had lain
His cheek upon his dear one's comely knee;
Then when it died away-the choral strain-
He who thus cushioned him said: Wake and come
But to the Gods above he had gone home."
WAGNER and LUDWIG
THE correspondence of Richard Wagner discloses the existence of
a very warm friendship between him and Ludwig II, the young king
of Bavaria. Ludwig as a young man appears [159] to have been a
very charming personality, good looking, engaging and sympathetic;
every one was fond of him. Yet his tastes led him away from "society,"
into retirement, and the companionship of Nature and a few chosen
friends-often of humble birth. Already at the age of fifteen he
had heard Lohengrin, and silently vowed to know the composer.
One of his first acts when he came to the throne was to send for
Wagner; and from the moment of their meeting a personal intimacy
sprang up between them, which in due course led to the establishment
of the theatre at Bayreuth, and to the liberation of Wagner's
genius to the world. Though the young king at a later time lost
his reason-probably owing to his over-sensitive emotional nature-this
does not detract from the service that he rendered to Music by
his generous attachment. How Wagner viewed the matter may be gathered
from Wagner's letters.
"He, the king, loves me, and with the deep feeling and glow
of a first love; he perceives and knows everything about me, and
understands me as my own soul. He wants me to stay with him always....
I am to be free and my own master, not his music-conductor-only
my very self and his friend."
Letters to Mme. Eliza Wille, 4th, May, 1864.
[160] " It is true that I have my young king who genuinely
adores me. You cannot form an idea of our relations. I recall
one of the dreams of my youth. I once dreamed that Shakespeare
was alive: that I really saw and spoke to him: I can never forget
the impression that dream made on me. Then I would have wished
to see Beethoven, though he was already dead. Something of the
same kind must pass m the mind of this lovable man when with me.
He says he can hardly believe that he really possesses me. None
can read without astonishment, without enchantment, the letters
he writes to me."
Ibid, 9th Sept., 1864.
"I hope now for a long period to gain strength again by quiet
work. This is made possible for me by the love of an unimaginably
beautiful and thoughtful being: it seems that it had to be even
so greatly gifted a man and one so destined for me, as this young
King of Bavaria. What he is to me no one can imagine. My guardian!
In his love I completely rest and fortify myself towards the completion
of my task."
Letter to his brother-in-law, 10th Sept., 1865.
BELOW are some of the actual letters of Ludwig to Wagner. (See
Prof. C. Beyer's book, Ludwig II, Konig von Bayern.)
" Dear Friend, O I see clearly that your sufferings are deep-rootedl
You tell me, beloved friend, that you have looked deep into the
hearts [161] of men, and seen there the villainy and corruption
that dwells within. Yes, I believe you, and I can well understand
that moments come to you of disgust with the human race; yet always
will we remember (will we not, beloved?) that there are yet many
noble and good people, for whom it is a real pleasure to live
and work. And yet you say you are no use for this world I-I pray
you, do not despair, your true friend conjures you; have Courage:
' Love helps us to bear and suffer all things, love brings at
last the victor's crownl ' Love recognizes, even in the most corrupt,
the germ of good; she alone overcomes all -Live on, darling of
my soul. I recall your own words to you. To learn to forget is
a noble workl-Let us be careful to hide the faults of others;
it was for all men indeed that the Saviour died and suffered.
And now, what a pity that ' Tristan ' can not be presented to-day;
will it perhaps to-morrow? Is there any chance?
Unto death, your faithful friend,
15th May, 1865. LUDWIG."
" Purschling, 4th Aug., 1865.
" My one, my much-loved Friend,-You express to me your
sorrow that, as it seems to you, each one of our last meetings
has only brought pain and anxiety to me.-Must I then remind my
loved one of Brynhilda's words?-Not only in gladness and enjoyment,
but in suffering also Love makes man blest.... When does my [162]
friend think of coming to the ' Hill-Top,' to the woodland's aromatic
breezes?-Should a stay in that particular spot not altogether
suit, why, I beg my dear one to choose any of my other mountain-cabins
for his residence.-What is mine is hisl Perhaps we may meet on
the way between the Wood and the World, as my friend expressed
itl . . . To thee I am wholly devoted; for thee, for thee only
to live I
Unto death your own, your faithful
" LUDWIG."
"Hohenschwangau, 2nd Nov., 1865.
" My one Friend, my ardently beloved! This afternoon,
at 3.30, I returned from a glorious tour in Switzerlandl How this
land delighted me I-There I found your dear letter; - deepest
warmest thanks for the same. With new and burning enthusiasm has
it filled me; I see that the beloved marches boldly and confidently
forward, towards our great and eternal goal. " All hindrances
I will victoriously like a hero overcome. I am entirely at thy
disposal; let me now dutifully prove it.-Yes, we must meet and
speak together. I will banish all evil clouds; Love has strength
for all. You are the star that shines upon my life, and the sight
of you ever wonderfully strengthens me.-Ardently I long for you,
O my presiding Saint, to whom I prayl I should be immensely pleased
to see my friend here in about a week; oh, we have plenty to say!
[163] If only I could quite banish from me the curse of which
you speak, and send it back to the deeps of night from whence
it sprangl-How I love, how I love you, my one, my highest goodl
. . ." My enthusiasm and love for you are boundless. Once
more I swear you faith till death! Ever, ever your devoted
"LUDWIG."
IN these letters we see chiefly, of course, the passionate sentiments
of which Ludwig was capable; but that Wagner fully understood
the feeling and appreciated it may be gathered from various passages
in his published writings-such as the following, in which he seeks
to show how the devotion of comradeship became the chief formative
influence of the Spartan State:
" This beauteous naked man is the kernel of all Spartanhood;
from genuine delight in the beauty of the most perfect human body-that
of the male-arose that spirit of comradeship which pervades and
shapes the whole economy of the Spartan State. This love of man
to man, in its primitive purity, proclaims itself as the noblest
and least selfish utterance of man's sense of beauty, for it teaches
man to sink and merge his entire self in the object of his affection
"; and again:" The higher element of that love of man
to man consisted even in this: that it excluded the motive [164]
of egoistic physicalism. Nevertheless it not only included a purely
spiritual bond of friendship, but this spiritual friendship was
the blossom and the crown of the physical friendship. The latter
sprang directly from delight in the beauty, aye in the material
bodily beauty of the beloved comrade; yet this delight was no
egoistic yearning, but a thorough stepping out of self into unreserved
sympathy with the comrade's joy in himself; involuntarily betrayed
by his life-glad beautyprompted bearing. This love, which had
its basis in the noblest pleasures of both eye and soul -not like
our modern postal correspondence of sober friendship, half business-like,
half sentimental-was the Spartan's only tutoress of youth, the
never-ageing instructress alike of boy and man, the ordainer of
common feasts and valiant enterprises; nay the inspiring helpmeet
on the battlefield. For this it was that knit the fellowship of
love into battalions of war, and fore-wrote the tactics of death-daring,
in rescue of the imperilled or vengeance for the slaughtered comrade,
by the infrangible law of the soul's most natural necessity."
The Art-work of the Future, trans. by W A Ellis
ERNST HAECKEL, in his " Visit to Ceylon," describes
the devotion entertained for him by his Rodiya serving-boy at
Belligam, near Galle. The keeper of the rest-house at Belligam
was [165] an old and philosophically-minded man, whom Haeckel,
from his likeness to a well known head, could not help calling
by the name of Socrates. And he continues:
" It really seemed as though I should be pursued by the familiar
aspects of classical antiquity from the first moment of my arrival
at my idyllic home. For, as Socrates led me up the steps of the
open central hall of the rest-house, I saw before me, with uplifted
arms in an attitude of prayer, a beautiful naked brown figure,
which could be nothing else than the famous statue of the ' Youth
adoring.' How surprised I was when the graceful bronze statue
suddenly came to life, and dropping his arms fell on his knees,
and, after raising his black eyes imploringly to mine, bowed his
handsome face so low at my feet that his long black hair fell
on the floorl Socrates informed me that this boy was a Pariah,
a member of the lowest caste, the Rodiyas, who had lost his parents
at an early age, so he had taken pity on him. He was told off
to my exclusive service, had nothing to do the livelong day but
obey my wishes, and was a good boy, sure to do his duty punctually.
In answer to the question what I was to call my new body-servant,
the old man informed me that his name was Gamameda. Of course
I immediately thought of Ganymede, for the favorite of Jove himself
could not have been more finely made, or have had limbs more beautifully
[166] proportioned and moulded. As Gamameda also displayed a peculiar
talent as butler, and never allowed any one else to open me a
cocoa-nut or offer me a glass of palm wine, it was no more than
right that I should dub him Ganymede.
" Among the many beautiful figures which move in the foreground
of my memories of the paradise of Ceylon, Ganymede remains one
of my dearest favorites. Not only did he fulfil his duties with
the greatest attention and conscientiousness, but he developed
a personal attachment and devotion to me which touched me deeply.
The poor boy, as a miserable outcast of the Rodiva caste, had
been from his birth the object of the deepest contempt of his
fellow-men, and subjected to every sort of brutality and ill-treatment.
With the single exception of old Socrates, who was not too gentle
with him either, no one perhaps had ever cared for him in any
way. He was evidently as much surprised as delighted to find me
willing to be kind to him from the first.... I owe many beautiful
and valuable contributions to my museum to Ganymede's unfailing
zeal and dexterity. With the keen eye, the neat hand, and the
supple agility of the Cinghalese youth, he could catch a fluttering
moth or a gliding fish with equal promptitude; and his nimbleness
was really amazing, when, out hunting, he climbed the tall trees
like a cat, or scrambled through the densest jungle to recover
the prize I had killed." [167]
My Visit to Ceylon, by Ernst Haekel, (Kegan Paul, Trench
& Co., I883).
Haeckel stayed some weeks in and arround Belligam ; and continues
(p. 272 ):-
" On my return to Belgium I had to face one of the hardest
duties of my whole stay in Ceylon, to tear myself away from this
lovely spot of earth where I had spent six of the happiest and
most interesting weeks in my life.... but hardest of all was the
parting from my faithful Ganymede: the poor lad wept bitterly,
and implored me totake him with me to Europe. In vain has I assured
him that it was impossible, and told him of our chill climate
and dull skies. He clung ti my knees and declared that he would
follow me unhesitatingly wherever I would take him. I was at last
almost obliged to use force to free myself from his embrace. I
got into the carriage which was waiting, and as I waved a last
farewell to my good brown friends, I almost felt as if I had been
expelled from Paradise."
WE may close this record of celebrated Germans mans with the name
of K. H. Ulrichs, a Hanoverian by birth, who occupied for
a long time an official position in the revenue department at
Vienna, and who became well known about 1866 though his writings
on the subject of [168] freindship. He gives, in his pamphlet
Memnon, an account of the " story of his heart " in
early years.In an apparently quite natural way, and independently
cf outer influences, his thoughts had from the very first been
of friends of his own sex. At the age of 14, the picture of a
Greek hero or god, a statue, seen in a book, woke in him the tenderest
longings.
" This picture (he says), put away from me, as it was, a
hundred times, came again a hundred times before the eyes of my
soul. But of course for the origin of my special temFerament it
is in no way responsible. It only woke up what was already slumbering
there-a thing which might have been done equally well by something
else."
From that time forward the boy worshipped with a kind of romantic
devotion elder friends, young men in the prime of early manhood;
and later still his writings threw a flood of light on the "urning
" temperament-as he called it-of which he was himself so
marked an example.
Some of Ulrich's verses are scattered among his prose writings:
To his friend Eberhard
" And so farewell! perchance on Earth
God's finger-as 'twixt thee and me
[169] Will never make that wonder clear
Why thus It drew me unto thee."
And this:
"It was the day of our first meeting -
That happy day, in Davern's grove -
I felt the Spring wind's tender greeting,
And April touched my heart to love.
Thy hand in mine lay kindly mated;
Thy gaze held mine quite- fascinated -
So gracious wast, and fair!
Thy glance my life-thread almost severed;
My heart for joy and gladness quivered,
Nigh more than it could bear.
There in the grove at evening's hour
The breeze thro' budding twigs hath ranged,
And lips have learned to meet each other,
And kisses mute exchanged."
Memnon, p. 23.
ENGLAND
TO return to England. With the beginning of the 19th century we
find two great poets, Byron and Shelley, both interested in and
even writing in a romantic strain on the subject in question.
Byron's attachment, when at Cambridge, to Eddleston the
chorister, a youth two years younger than himself, is well known.
In a youthful letter [170] to Miss Pigot he, Byron, speaks of
it in enthusiastic terms:
" Trin. Coll., Camb., July 15th, 1807.
" I rejoice to hear you are interested in my protege; he
has been my almost constant associate since October, 1805, when
I entered Trinity College. His voice first attracted my attention,
his countenance fixed it, and his manners attached me to him for
ever. He departs for a mercantile house in town in October, and
we shall probably not meet till the expiration of my minority,
when I shall leave to his decision either entering as a partner
through my interest or residing with me altogether. Of course
he would in his present frame of mind prefer the latter, but he
may alter his opinion previous to that period; however, he shall
have his choice. I certainly love him more than any human being,
and neither time nor distance have had the least effect on my
(in general) changeable disposition. In short we shall put Lady
E. Butler and Miss Ponsonby to the blush, Pylades and Orestes
out of countenance, and want nothing but a catastrophe like Nisus
and Euryalus to give Jonathan and David the ' go by.' He certainly
is more attached to me than even I am in return. During the whole
of my residence at Cambridge we met every day, summer and winter,
without passing one tiresome moment, and separated each time with
increasing reluctance."
[171]
Eddleston gave Byron a cornelian (brooch-pin) which Byron prized
very much, and is said to have kept all his life. He probably
refers to it, and to tlue inequality of condition between him
and Eddleston, in the following stanza from his poem, The Adieu,
written about this time:
" And thou, my friend, whose gentle love
Yet thrills my bosom's chords,
How much thy friendship was above
Description's power of words!
Still near my breast thy gift I wear
Which sparkled once with Feeling's tear,
Of Love, the pure, the sacred gem;
Our souls were equal, and our lot
In that dear moment quite forgot;
Let pride alone condemn."
THE Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Sarah Ponsonby mentioned
in the above letter were at that time living at Llangollen, in
Wales, and were known as the " Ladies of Llangollen,"
their romantic attachment to each other having already become
proverbial. When Miss Ponsonby was seventeen, and Lady E. Butler
some twenty years older, they had run away from their respective
and respectable homes in Ireland, and taking a cottage at Llangollen
lived there, inseparable [172] companions, for the rest of their
lives. Letters and diaries of contemporary celebrities mention
their romantic devotion. (The Duke of Wellington was among their
visitors.) Lady Eleanor died in 1829, at the age of ninety; and
Miss Ponsonby only survived her " beloved one " (as
she always called her) by two years.
As to the allusion to Nisus and Euryalus, Byron's paraphrase of
the episode (from the 9th book of Virgil's AEneid) serves to show
his interest in it :
Nisus, the guardian of the portal, stood,
Eager to gild his arms with hostile blood-
Well-skilled in fight the quivering lance to wield,
Or pour his arrows thro' the embattled field:
From Ida torn, he left his Sylvan cave,
And sought a foreign home, a distant grave.
To watch the movements of the Daunian host,
With him Euryalus sustains the post-
No lovelier mlen adorn'd the ranks of Troy,
And beardless bloom yet graced the gallant boy-
Tho' few the seasons of his youthful life,
As yet a novice in the martial strife,
'Twas his, with beautv, valor's gifts to share-
A soul heroic, as his form was fair.
These burn with one pure flame of generous love;
[173] In peace, in war, united still they move;
Friendship and glory form their joint reward;
And now combined they hold thelr nightly guard. '
[The two then carry out a daring raid on the enemy, in which Euryalus
is slain. Nisus, coming to his rescue is-after performing prodigies
of valor-slain too.]
" Thus Nisus all his fond affection proved -
Dying, revenged the fate of him he loved;
Then on his bosom sought his wonted place,
And death was heavenly in his friend's embrace !
Celestial pair ! if aught my verse can claim,
Wafted on Time's broad pimon, yours is fame !
Ages on ages shall your fate admire,
No future day shall see your names expire,
While stands the Capitol, immortal dome!
And vanquished millions hail their empress, Rome ! "
Byron's "Death of Calmar and Orla: an Imitation of Ossian",
is, like his Nisus and Euryalus," a story of two hero-friends
who, refusing to be separated, die together in battle:
"In Morven dwelt the chief; a beam of war to Fingal. His
steps in the field were marked in blood. Lochlin's sons had fled
before his angry spear; but mild was the eye of Calmar; [174]
soft was the flow of his yellow locks: they streamed like the
meteor of the night. No maid was the sigh of his soul: his thoughts
were given to friendship-to dark-haired Orwa, destroyer of heroes!
Equal were their swords in battle; but fierce was the pride of
Orla-gentle alone to Calmar. Together they dwelt in the cave of
Oithona." [Orla is sent by the King on a mission of danger
amid the hosts of the enemy. Calmar insists on accompanying him,
in spite of all entreaties to the contrary. They are discovered.
A fight ensues, and they are slain.] " Morn glimmers on the
hills: no living foe is seen; but the sleepers are many; grim
they lie on Erin. The breeze of ocean lifts their locks; yet they
do not awake. The hawks scream above their prey.
" Whose yellow locks uave o'er the breast of a chief ? Bright
as the gold of the stranger they mingle with the dark hair of
his friend. 'Tis Calmar: he lies on the bosom of Orla. Theirs
is one stream of blood. Fierce is the look of gloomy Orla. He
breathes not, but his eye is still aflame. It glares in death
unclosed. His hand is grasped in Calmar's; but Calmar lives! He
lives, though low. ' Rise,' said the King, ' Rise, son of Mora:
'tis mine to heal the wounds of heroes. Calmar may yet bound on
the hills of Morven.'
" ' Never more shall Calmar chase the deer of Morven with
Orla,' said the hero. ' What were [175] the chase to me alone?
Who should share the spoils of battle with Calmar? Orla is at
rest. Rough was thy soul, Orlat Yet soft to me as the dew of morn.
It glared on others in lightning: to me a silver beam of night.
Bear my sword to blue-eyed Mora; let it hang in my empty hall.
It is not pure from blood: but it could not save Orla. Lay me
with my friend. Raise the song when I am dead.' " [So they
are laid by the stream of Lubar, and four grey stones mark the
dwelling of Orla and Calmar.]
Byron's friendships, in fact, with young men were so marked that
Moore in his Life and Letters of Lord Byron seems to have
felt it necessary to mention and. to some extent, to explain them:
" During his stay in Greece (in 1810) we find him forming
one of those extraordinary friendships-if attachment to persons
so inferior to himself can be called by that name-of which I have
already mentioned two or three instances in his younger days,
and in which the pride of being a protector and the pleasure of
exciting gratitude seem to have contributed to his mind the chief,
pervading charm. The person whom he now adopted in this manner,
and from similar feelings to those which had inspired his early
attachments to the cottage boy near Newstead and the young chorister
at Cambridge, was a Greek youth, named Nicolo Giraud. the son.
I believe, of a widow lady [176] in whose house the artist Lusieri
lodged. In this young man he seems to have taken the most lively
and even brotherly interest."'
SHELLEY, in his fragmentary Essay on Friendship-stated
by his friend Hogg to have been written " not long before
his death "says:
" I remember forming an attachment of this kind at school.
I cannot recall to my memorv the precise epoch at which this took
place; but I imagine it must have been at the age of eleven or
twelve. The object of these sentiments was a boy about my own
age, of a character eminently generous, brave and gentle, and
the elements of human feeling seemed to have been, from his birth,
genially compounded within him. There was a delicacy and a simplicity
in his manners, inexpressibly attractive. It has never been my
fortune to meet with him since my schoolboy days; but either I
confound my present recollections with the delusions of past feelings,
or he is now a source of honor and utility to every one around
him. The tones of his voice were so soft and winning, that every
word pierced into my heart; and their pathos was so deep that
in listening to him the tears have involuntarily gushed from my
eyes. Such was the being for whom I first experienced the sacred
sentiments of friendship."
[177]
It may be noted that Hogg takes the reference as to himself !
WITH this passage we may compare the following from Leigh Hunt:
" If I had reaped no other benefit from Christ Hospital,
the school would be ever dear to me from the recollection of the
friendships I formed in it, and of the first heavenly taste it
gave me of that most spiritual of the affections.... If ever I
tasted a disembodied transport on earth, it was in those friendships
which I entertained at school, before I dreamt of any maturer
feeling. I shall never forget the impression it made on me. I
loved my friend for his gentleness, his candor, his truth, his
good repute, his freedom even from my own livelier manner, his
calm and reasonable kindness. It was not any particular talent
that attracted me to him, or anything striking whatsoever. I should
say, in one word, it was his goodness. I doubt whether he ever
had a conception of a tithe of the regard and respect I entertained
for him; and I smile to think of the perplexity (though he never
showed it) which he probably felt sometimes at my enthusiastic
expressions; for I thought him a kind of angel. It is no exaggeration
to say, that, take away the unspiritual part of it-the genius
and the knowledge-and there is no height of eonceit indulged in
by the most romantic character in Shakespeare, which surpassed
[178] what I felt towards the merits I ascribed to him, and the
delight which I took in his society. With the other boys I played
antics, and rioted in fantastic jests; but in his society, or
whenever I thought of him, I fell into a kind of Sabbath state
of bliss; and I am sure I could have died for him.
" I experienced this delightful affection towards three successive
schoolfellows, till two of them had for some time gone out into
the world and forgotten me; but it grew less with each, and in
more than one instance became rivalled by a new set of emotions,
especially in regard to the last, for I fell in love with his
sister-at least, I thought so. But on the occurrence of her death,
not long after, I was startled at finding myself assume an air
of greater sorrow than I felt, and at being willing to be relieved
by the sight of the first pretty face that turned towards me....
My friend, who died himself not long after his quitting the University,
was of a German family in the service of the court, very refined
and musical."
Autobiography of Leigh Hunt, Smith and Elder, 1870, p 75
ON this subject of boy-friendships and their intensity Lord
Beaconsfield [Ie. Benjamin Disraeli] has, in Coningsby,
a quite romantic passage, which notwithstanding its sentimental
setting may be worth quoting; because, after all, it signalizes
an often forgotten or unconsidered aspect of school-life:
[179]
" At school, friendship is a passion. It entrances the being;
it tears the soul. All loves of after-life can never bring its
rapture, or its wretchedness; no bliss so absorbing, no pangs
of jealousy or despair so crushing and so keen! What tenderness
and what devotion; what illimitable confidence, infinite revelations
of inmost thoughts; what ecstatic present and romantic future;
what bitter estrangements and what melting reconciliations; what
scenes of wild recrimination, agitating explanations, passionate
correspondence; what insane sensitiveness, and what frantic sensibility;
what earthquakes of the heart and whirlwinds of the soul are confined
in that simple phrase, a schoolboy's friendship I "
EDWARD FITZGERALD, the interpreter and translator of Omar
Khayyam, was a man of the deepest feeling and sensibility,
with a special gift for friendship. Men like Tennyson and Thackeray
declared that they loved him best of all their friends. He himself
said in one of his letters, " My friendships are more like
loves." A. C. Benson, his biographer, writes of him:
" He was always taking fancies, and once under the spell
he could see no faults in his friend. His friendship for Browne
arose out of one of these romantic impulses. So too his affection
for Posh, the boatman; for Cowell, and for Alfred Smith, [180]
the farmer of Farlingay and Boulge, who had been his protege as
a boy. He seems to have been one of those whose best friendships
are reserved for men; for though he had beloved women friends
like Mrs. Cowell and Mrs. Kemble, yet these are the exceptions
rather than the rule. The truth is, there was a strong admixture
of the feminine in Fitzgerald's character." Fitzgerald
English Men of Letters Series, ch. viii.
The friendship with Posh, the fisherman, at Lowestoft and at Woodbridge,
lasted over many years. Fitzgerald had a herring-lugger built
for him, which he called the Meum and Tuum, and in which they
had many a sail together. Benson, speaking of their first meeting,
says:
"In the same year [1864] came another great friendship. He
made the acquaintance of a stalwart sailor named Joseph Fletcher,
commonly called Posh. It was at Lowestoft that he was found, where
Fitzgerald used, as he wrote in 1850, ' to wander about the shore
at night longing for some fellow to accost me who might give some
promise of filling up a very vacant place in my heart.' Posh had
seen the melancholy figure wandering about, and years after, when
Fitz used to ask him why he had not been merciful enough to speak
to him, Posh would reply that he had not thought of it becoming.
Posh was, in Fitzgerald's own words, ' a man of the finest Saxon
[181] type, with a complexion, vif, mâle et flamboyant,
blue eyes, a nose less than Roman, more than Greek, and strictly
auburn hair that woman might sigh to possess.' He was too, according
to Fitz, ' a man of simplicity of soul, justice of thought, tenderness
of nature, a gentleman of Nature's grandest type.' Fitz became
deeply devoted to this big-handed, soft-hearted, grave fellow,
then 24 years of age."
Ibid., ch. iii.
ALFRED TENNYSON, in his great poem, In Memoriam,
published about the middle of the 19th century, gives superb expression
to his love for his lost friend, Arthur Hallam. Reserved, dignified,
in sustained meditation and tender sentiment, yet half revealing
here and there a more passionate feeling; expressing in simplest
words the most difficult and elusive thoughts (e.g., Cantos 128
and 129), as well as the most intimate and sacred moods of the
soul; it is indeed a great work of art. Naturally, being such,
it was roundly abused by the critics on its first appearance.
The Times solemnly rebuked its language as unfitted for any but
amatory tenderness, and because young Hallam was a barrister spent
much wit upon the poet's " Amaryllis of the Chancery bar."
Tennyson himself, speaking of [182] In Memoriam, mentioned
(see Memoir by his son, p. 800) " the number of shameful
letters of abuse he had received about it I "
CANTO XIII
" Tears of the widower, when he sees,
A late-lost form that sleep reveals,
And moves his doubtful arms, and feels
Her place is empty, fall like these;
Which weep a loss for ever new,
A void where heart on heart reposed;
And, where warm hands have prest and closed,
Silence, till I be silent too.
Which weep the comrade of my choice,
An awful thought, a life removed,
The human-hearted man I loved,
A spirit, not a breathing voice.
Come Time, and teach me, many years,
I do not suffer in a dream;
For now so strange do these things seem,
Mine eyes have leisure for their tears;
My fancies time to rise on wing,
And glance about the approaching sails,
As tho' they brought but merchant's bales,
And not the burden that they bring."
[183]
CANTO XVIII
'Tis well. 'tis something, we may stand
Where he in English earth is laid,
And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land.
'Tis little; but it looks in truth
As if the quiet bones were blest
Among familiar names to rest
And in the places of his youth.
Come then, pure hands, and bear the head
That sleeps, or wears the mask of sleep,
And come, whatever loves to weep,
And hear the ritual of the dead.
Ah yet. ev'n yet, if this might be,
I, falling on his faithful head:,
Would breathing thro' his lips impart
The life that almost dies in me:
That dies not, but endures with pain,
And slowly forms the firmer mind,
Treasuring the look it cannot find,
The words that are not heard again."
CANTO LIX
If, in thy second state sublime,
Thy ransom d reason change replies
With all the circle of the wise,
The perfect flower of human time;
[184]
And if thou cast thine eyes below,
How dimly character'd and slight,
How dwarf'd a growth of cold and night,
How blanch'd with darkness must I grow !
Yet turn thee to the doubtful shore,
Where thy first form was made a man;
I loved thee, Spirit, and love, nor can
The soul of Shakspeare love thee more "
CANTO CXXVII
Dear friend, far off, my lost desire,
So far, so near, in woe or weal;
O loved the most when most I feel
There is a lower and a higher;
Known and unknown, human, divine I
Sweet human hand and lips and eye,
Dear heavenly friend that canst not die,
Mine, mine, for ever, ever, mine I
Strange friend, past, present and to be;
Loved deeplier, darklier understood
Behold I dream a dream of good
And mingle all the world with thee."
CANTO CXXVIII
" Thy voice is on the rolling air;
I hear thee where the waters run;
Thou standest in the rising sun,
And in the setting thou art fair.
[185]
What are thou then? I cannot guess;
But tho' I seem in star and flower
To feel thee some diffusive power,
I do not therefore love thee less:
My love involves the love before;
My love is vaster passion now;
Tho' mixed with God and Nature thou,
I seem to love thee more and more.
Far off thou art, but ever nigh;
I have thee still, and I rejoice;
I prosper, circled with thy voice;
I shall not lose thee tho' I dle."
FOLLOWING is a little poem by Robert Browning, entitled May and Death, which may well be placed near the stanzas
of In Memoriam
" I wish that when you died last May,
Charles, there had died along with you
Three parts of Spring's delightful things;
Ay, and for me the fourth part too.
A foolish thought, and worse, perhaps I
There must be many a pair of friends
Who arm-in-arm deserve the warm
Moon-births and the long evening-ends.
[186]
So, for their sake, be May still May!
Let their new time, as mine of old
Do all it did for me; I bid
Sweet sights and sounds throng manifold.
Only one little sigh, onc plant
Woods have in May, that starts up green
Save a sole streak which, so to speak,
Is Spring's blood, split its leaves between
That, they might spare; a certain wood
Might miss the plant; their loss were small;
But I-whene'er the leaf grows there
It's drop comes from my heart, that's all."
BETWEEN Browning and Whitman we may insert a few lines from R.
W. Emerson:
" The only way to have a friend is to be one. . . . In the
last analysis love is only the reflection of a man's own worthiness
from other men. Men have sometimes exchanged names with their
friends, as if they would signify that in their friend each loved
his own soul.
" The higher the style we demand of friendship, of course
the less easy to establish it with flesh and blood.... Friends,
such as we desire, are dreams and fables. But a sublime hope cheers
ever the faithful heart, that elsewhere, in other regions of the
universal power, souls are now [187] acting, enduring, and daring,
which can love us, and which we can love."
Essay on Friendship.
These also from Henry D. Thoreau:
" No word is oftener on the lips of men than Friendship,
and indeed no thought is more familiar to their aspirations. All
men are dreaming of it, and its drama, which is always a tragedy,
is enacted daily. It is the secret of the universe. You may thread
the town, you may wander the country, and none shall ever speak
of it, yet thought is everywhere busy about it, and the idea of
what is possible in this respect affects our behavior towards
all new men and women, and a great many old ones. Nevertheless
I can remember only two or three essays on this subject in all
literature.... To say that a man is your friend, means commonly
no more than this, that he is not your enemy. Most contemplate
only what would be the accidental and trifling advantages of friendship,
as that the friend can assist in time of need, by his substance,
or his influence, or his counsel; but he who foresees such advantages
in this relation proves himself blind to its real advantage, or
indeed wholly inexperienced in the relation itself.... What is
commonly called Friendship is only a little more honor among rogues.
But sometimes we are said to love another, that is, to stand in
a true relation to him, so that we give the best to, and receive
the best from, him. Between whom there is hearty truth there is
love; and in [188] proportion to our truthfulness and confidence
in one another our lives are divine and miraculous, and answer
to our ideal. There are passages of affection in our intercourse
with mortal men and women, such as no prophecy had taught us to
expect, which transcend our earthly life, and anticipate heaven
for us."
From On the Concord River
WHITMAN
I CONCLUDE this collection with a few quotations from Whitman,
for whom " the love of comrades " perhaps stands as
the most intimate part of his message to the world-" Here
the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting."
Whitman, by his great power, originality and initiative, as well
as by his deep insight and wide vision, is in many ways the inaugurator
of a new era to mankind; and it is especially interesting to find
that this idea of comradeship, and of its establishment as a social
institution, plays so important a part with him. We have seen
that in the Greek age, and more or less generally in the ancient
and pagan world, comradeship was an institution; we have seen
that in Christian and modern times, though existent, it was socially
denied and ignored, and indeed to a great extent fell under a
kind of ban; and now Whitman's attitude [189] towards it suggests
to us that it really is destined to pass into its third stage,
to arise again, and become a recognized factor of modern life,
and even in a more extended and perfect form than at first. [As
Whitman in this connection (like Tennyson in connection with In
Memoriam) is sure to be accused of morbidity, it may he worth
while to insert the following note from In reWalt Whitman,
p. 115, " Dr. Drinkard in 1870, when Whitman broke down from
rupture of a small blood-vessel in the brain, wrote to a Philadelphia
doctor detailing Whitman's case, and stating that he was a man
' with the most natural habits, bases, and organisation he had
ever seen.]'
" It is to the development, identification, and general prevalence
of that fervid comradeship (the adhesive love, at least rivalling
the amative love hitherto possessing imaginative literature, if
not going beyond it), that I look for the counterbalance and offset
of our materialistic and vulgar American Democracy, and for the
spiritualization thereof. Many will say it is a dream, and will
not follow my inferences; but I confidently expect
a time when there will be seen, running like a half-hid warp through
all the myriad audible and visible worldly interests of America,
threads of manly friendship, fond and loving, pure and sweet,
strong and lifelong, carried to degrees hitherto unknown-not only
giving tone to individual character, and making it unprecedently
emotional, muscular, heroic, and refined, but having deepest relations
to general politics. I say Democracy [190] infers such loving
comradeship, as its most inevitable twin or counterpart, without
which it will be incomplete, in vain, and incapable of perpetuating
itself."
Democratic Vistas note
The three following poems are taken from Leaves of Grass:
" Recorders ages hence,
Come, I will take you down underneath this im passive exterior,
I will tell you what to say of me,
Publish my name and hang up my picture as that of the tenderest
lover,
The friend the lover's portrait, of whom his friend his lover
was fondest,
Who was not proud of his songs, but of the measureless ocean of
love within him, and freely pour'd it forth,
Who often walk'd lonesome walks thinking of his dear friends,
his lovers,
Who pensive away from one he lov'd often lay sleepless and dissatisfied
at night,
Who knew too well the sick, sick dread lest the one he lov'd might
secretly be indifferent to him,
Whose happiest days were far away through fields, in woods, on
hills, he and another wan dering hand in hand, they twain apart
from other men,
Who oft as he saunter'd the streets curv'd with his [191] arm
the shoulder of his friend, while the arm of his friend rested
upon him also."
Leaves of Grass, 1891, 2 edn., p. 102.
" When I heard at the close of the day how my name had been
receiv'd with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy
night for me that follow'd,
And else when I carous'd, or when my plans were accomplish'd,
still I was not happy,
But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health,
refresh'd, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn,
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in
the morning light,
When I wander'd alone over the beach, and undressing bathed, laughing
with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise,
And when I thought how my dear friend my lover was on his way
coming, O then I was happy,
O then each breath tasted sweeter, and all that day my food nourish'd
me more, and the beautiful day pass'd well,
And the next came with equal joy, and with the next at evening
came my friend, and that night while all was still I heard the
waters roll slowly continuously up the shores,
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands as directed
to me whispering to congratulate me,
[192]For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same
cover in the cool night,
In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined
toward me,
And his arm lay lightly around my breast-and that night I was
happy."
Ibid, p. 103.
"I hear it was charged against me that I sought to destroy
institutions,
But really I am neither for nor against institutions, (What indeed
have I in common with them? or what with the destruction of them?)
Only I will establish in the Mannahatta and in every city of these
States inland and seaboard,
And in the fields and woods, and above every keel little or large
that dents the water,
Without edifices or rules or trustees or any argument,
The institution of the dear love of comrades."
lbid, p. 107.
END
Source.
From: Edward Carpenter:
IOLÄUS: AN ANTHOLOGY OF FRIENDSHIP (1908). Full test is available here.
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