Francis Bacon - The Essays 1601
OF FRIENDSHIP
It had been hard
for him that spake
it to have put
more truth and untruth
together in few words,
than in that speech.
Whatsoever is delighted in solitude,
is either a wild
beast or a god.
For it is most true,
that a natural and secret hatred,
and aversation towards society, in any man,
hath somewhat of the savage beast;
but it is most untrue,
that it should have
any character at all,
of the divine nature; except it proceed,
not out of a pleasure in solitude,
but out of a
love and desire to sequester a man's self,
for a higher conversation:
such as is found
to have been falsely
and feignedly in some of the heathen;
as Epimenides the Candian, Numa the Roman, Empedocles the Sicilian,
and Apollonius of Tyana;
and truly and really,
in divers of the
ancient hermits and holy
fathers of the church.
But little do men
perceive what solitude is,
and how far it extendeth.
For a crowd is not company;
and faces are but
a gallery of pictures;
and talk but a tinkling cymbal,
where there is no love.
The Latin adage meeteth
with it a little: Magna civitas, magna solitudo;
because in a great
town friends are scattered;
so that there is not that fellowship,
for the most part,
which is in less neighborhoods.
But we may go further,
and affirm most truly,
that it is a
mere and miserable solitude
to want true friends;
without which the world
is but a wilderness;
and even in this
sense also of solitude,
whosoever in the frame
of his nature and affections,
is unfit for friendship,
he taketh it of the beast,
and not from humanity.
A principal fruit of friendship,
is the ease and
discharge of the fulness
and swellings of the heart,
which passions of all
kinds do cause and induce.
We know diseases of stoppings, and suffocations,
are the most dangerous in the body;
and it is not
much otherwise in the mind;
you may take sarza
to open the liver,
steel to open the spleen,
flowers of sulphur for the lungs,
castoreum for the brain;
but no receipt openeth the heart,
but a true friend;
to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels,
and whatsoever lieth upon
the heart to oppress it,
in a kind of
civil shrift or confession.
It is a strange thing to observe,
how high a rate
great kings and monarchs
do set upon this fruit of friendship, whereof we speak: so great,
as they purchase it, many times,
at the hazard of
their own safety and greatness. For princes,
in regard of the
distance of their fortune
from that of their subjects and servants,
cannot gather this fruit, except (to
make themselves capable thereof)
they raise some persons to be, as it were,
companions and almost equals to themselves,
which many times sorteth to inconvenience.
The modern languages give
unto such persons the name of favorites, or privadoes;
as if it were matter of grace, or conversation.
But the Roman name
attaineth the true use and cause thereof,
naming them participes curarum;
for it is that
which tieth the knot.
And we see plainly
that this hath been done,
not by weak and passionate princes only,
but by the wisest
and most politic that ever reigned;
who have oftentimes joined
to themselves some of their servants;
whom both themselves have called friends,
and allowed other likewise
to call them in the same manner;
using the word which
is received between private men. L. Sylla,
when he commanded Rome, raised Pompey (after surnamed the Great) to that height,
that Pompey vaunted himself for Sylla's overmatch.
For when he had
carried the consulship for
a friend of his,
against the pursuit of Sylla,
and that Sylla did
a little resent thereat,
and began to speak great,
Pompey turned upon him again,
and in effect bade him be quiet;
for that more men
adored the sun rising,
than the sun setting. With Julius Caesar,
Decimus Brutus had obtained that interest,
as he set him down, in his testament,
for heir in remainder, after his nephew.
And this was the
man that had power with him,
to draw him forth to his death.
For when Caesar would
have discharged the senate,
in regard of some ill presages,
and specially a dream of Calpurnia;
this man lifted him
gently by the arm
out of his chair,
telling him he hoped
he would not dismiss the senate,
till his wife had
dreamt a better dream.
And it seemeth his
favor was so great, as Antonius,
in a letter which
is recited verbatim in one of Cicero's Philippics, calleth him venefica, witch;
as if he had enchanted Caesar.
Augustus raised Agrippa (though of mean birth) to that height,
as when he consulted with Maecenas,
about the marriage of his daughter Julia,
Maecenas took the liberty to tell him,
that he must either
marry his daughter to Agrippa,
or take away his life;
there was no third war,
he had made him so great. With Tiberius Caesar,
Sejanus had ascended to that height,
as they two were termed, and reckoned,
as a pair of friends.
Tiberius in a letter to him saith,
Haec pro amicitia nostra non occultavi;
and the whole senate
dedicated an altar to Friendship,
as to a goddess,
in respect of the
great dearness of friendship, between them two. The like, or more,
was between Septimius Severus and Plautianus.
For he forced his
eldest son to marry
the daughter of Plautianus;
and would often maintain Plautianus,
in doing affronts to his son;
and did write also
in a letter to the senate, by these words:
I love the man so well,
as I wish he may over-live me.
Now if these princes
had been as a Trajan,
or a Marcus Aurelius,
a man might have
thought that this had
proceeded of an abundant goodness of nature;
but being men so wise,
of such strength and severity of mind,
and so extreme lovers of themselves,
as all these were,
it proveth most plainly
that they found their own felicity (though
as great as ever
happened to mortal men)
but as an half piece,
except they mought have a friend,
to make it entire; and yet, which is more,
they were princes that had wives, sons, nephews;
and yet all these
could not supply the comfort of friendship.
It is not to be forgotten,
what Comineus observeth of his first master,
Duke Charles the Hardy, namely,
that he would communicate
his secrets with none;
and least of all,
those secrets which troubled him most.
Whereupon he goeth on,
and saith that towards his latter time,
that closeness did impair,
and a little perish his understanding.
Surely Comineus mought have
made the same judgment also,
if it had pleased him,
of his second master, Lewis the Eleventh,
whose closeness was indeed his tormentor.
The parable of Pythagoras is dark, but true; Cor ne edito;
Eat not the heart.
Certainly if a man
would give it a hard phrase,
those that want friends,
to open themselves unto
are cannibals of their own hearts.
But one thing is most admirable (wherewith
I will conclude this
first fruit of friendship), which is,
that this communicating of a man's
self to his friend,
works two contrary effects;
for it redoubleth joys,
and cutteth griefs in halves.
For there is no man,
that imparteth his joys to his friend,
but he joyeth the more;
and no man that
imparteth his griefs to his friend,
but he grieveth the less.
So that it is in truth,
of operation upon a man's mind,
of like virtue as
the alchemists use to
attribute to their stone, for man's body;
that it worketh all contrary effects,
but still to the
good and benefit of nature.
But yet without praying
in aid of alchemists,
there is a manifest image of this,
in the ordinary course of nature. For in bodies,
union strengtheneth and cherisheth any natural action;
and on the other side,
weakeneth and dulleth any violent impression:
and even so it is of minds.
The second fruit of friendship,
is healthful and sovereign for the understanding,
as the first is for the affections.
For friendship maketh indeed
a fair day in the affections,
from storm and tempests;
but it maketh daylight in the understanding, out of darkness,
and confusion of thoughts.
Neither is this to
be understood only of faithful counsel,
which a man receiveth from his friend;
but before you come to that, certain it is,
that whosoever hath his
mind fraught with many thoughts,
his wits and understanding
do clarify and break up,
in the communicating and discoursing with another;
he tosseth his thoughts more easily;
he marshalleth them more orderly,
he seeth how they
look when they are turned into words: finally,
he waxeth wiser than himself;
and that more by an hour's discourse,
than by a day's meditation.
It was well said by Themistocles,
to the king of Persia,
That speech was like cloth of Arras,
opened and put abroad;
whereby the imagery doth appear in figure;
whereas in thoughts they
lie but as in packs.
Neither is this second fruit of friendship,
in opening the understanding,
restrained only to such
friends as are able
to give a man counsel; (they indeed are best;)
but even without that,
a man learneth of himself,
and bringeth his own thoughts to light,
and whetteth his wits
as against a stone,
which itself cuts not. In a word,
a man were better
relate himself to a statua, or picture,
than to suffer his
thoughts to pass in smother. Add now,
to make this second
fruit of friendship complete, that other point,
which lieth more open,
and falleth within vulgar observation;
which is faithful counsel from a friend.
Heraclitus saith well in
one of his enigmas,
Dry light is ever the best.
And certain it is,
that the light that
a man receiveth by counsel from another,
is drier and purer,
than that which cometh
from his own understanding and judgment;
which is ever infused, and drenched,
in his affections and customs.
So as there is
as much difference between the counsel,
that a friend giveth,
and that a man giveth himself,
as there is between
the counsel of a friend,
and of a flatterer.
For there is no
such flatterer as is a man's self;
and there is no
such remedy against flattery of a man's self,
as the liberty of a friend.
Counsel is of two sorts:
the one concerning manners,
the other concerning business. For the first,
the best preservative to
keep the mind in health,
is the faithful admonition of a friend.
The calling of a man's
self to a strict account, is a medicine,
sometime too piercing and corrosive.
Reading good books of morality,
is a little flat and dead.
Observing our faults in others,
is sometimes improper for our case.
But the best receipt (best, I say, to work,
and best to take)
is the admonition of a friend.
It is a strange thing to behold,
what gross errors and
extreme absurdities many (especially
of the greater sort) do commit,
for want of a
friend to tell them of them;
to the great damage
both of their fame and fortune: for, as St. James saith,
they are as men
that look sometimes into a glass,
and presently forget their
own shape and favor. As for business,
a man may think, if he will,
that two eyes see
no more than one;
or that a gamester
seeth always more than a looker-on;
or that a man in anger,
is as wise as
he that hath said
over the four and twenty letters;
or that a musket
may be shot off
as well upon the arm,
as upon a rest;
and such other fond and high imaginations,
to think himself all in all.
But when all is done,
the help of good
counsel is that which setteth business straight.
And if any man
think that he will take counsel,
but it shall be by pieces;
asking counsel in one business, of one man,
and in another business, of another man;
it is well (that is to say, better, perhaps,
than if he asked none at all);
but he runneth two dangers: one,
that he shall not be faithfully counselled;
for it is a rare thing,
except it be from
a perfect and entire friend,
to have counsel given,
but such as shall
be bowed and crooked to some ends, which he hath, that giveth it. The other,
that he shall have counsel given,
hurtful and unsafe (though with good meaning),
and mixed partly of
mischief and partly of remedy;
even as if you
would call a physician,
that is thought good
for the cure of
the disease you complain of,
but is unacquainted with your body;
and therefore may put
you in way for a present cure,
but overthroweth your health
in some other kind;
and so cure the disease,
and kill the patient.
But a friend that
is wholly acquainted with a man's estate, will beware,
by furthering any present business,
how he dasheth upon other inconvenience.
And therefore rest not upon scattered counsels;
they will rather distract and mislead,
than settle and direct.
After these two noble
fruits of friendship (peace in the affections,
and support of the judgment),
followeth the last fruit;
which is like the pomegranate,
full of many kernels; I mean aid,
and bearing a part,
in all actions and occasions.
Here the best way
to represent to life
the manifold use of friendship,
is to cast and
see how many things there are,
which a man cannot do himself;
and then it will appear,
that it was a
sparing speech of the ancients, to say,
that a friend is another himself;
for that a friend
is far more than himself.
Men have their time,
and die many times,
in desire of some
things which they principally take to heart;
the bestowing of a child,
the finishing of a work, or the like.
If a man have a true friend,
he may rest almost
secure that the care
of those things will continue after him.
So that a man hath, as it were,
two lives in his desires.
A man hath a body,
and that body is
confined to a place;
but where friendship is,
all offices of life
are as it were granted to him, and his deputy.
For he may exercise
them by his friend.
How many things are
there which a man cannot,
with any face or comeliness,
say or do himself?
A man can scarce
allege his own merits with modesty,
much less extol them;
a man cannot sometimes
brook to supplicate or beg;
and a number of the like.
But all these things are graceful, in a friend's mouth,
which are blushing in a man's own. So again, a man's
person hath many proper relations,
which he cannot put off.
A man cannot speak
to his son but as a father;
to his wife but as a husband;
to his enemy but upon terms:
whereas a friend may
speak as the case requires,
and not as it
sorteth with the person.
But to enumerate these things were endless;
I have given the rule,
where a man cannot
fitly play his own part;
if he have not a friend,
he may quit the stage.
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