Of all felicities, the most charming is that of a firm and gentle friendship. It sweetens all our cares, dispels our sorrows, and counsels us in all extremities. Nay, if there were no other comfort in it than the bare exercise of so generous a virtue, even for that single reason, a man would not be without it. Beside, that it is a sovereign antidote against all calamities, even against the fear of death itself.
Of all life's joys, the most wonderful is a strong and caring friendship. It makes all our troubles sweeter, drives away our sadness, and guides us through every crisis. Even if friendship offered no other comfort than simply practicing such a generous virtue, that reason alone would make it worthwhile. Beyond that, it serves as the perfect remedy against all disasters, even against the fear of death itself.
But we are not to number our friends by the visits that are made us; and to confound the decencies of ceremony and commerce with the offices of united affections. Caius Gracchus, and after him Livius Drusus, were the men that introduced among the Romans the fashion of separating their visitants; some were taken into their closet, others were only admitted into the antechamber: and some, again, were fain to wait in the hall perhaps, or in the court. So that they had their first, their second, and their third rate friends; but none of them true: only they are called so in course, as we salute strangers with some title or other of respect at a venture. There is no depending upon those men that only take their compliment in their turn, and rather slip through the door than enter at it. He will find himself in a great mistake, that either seeks for a friend in a palace, or tries him at a feast.
We shouldn't judge our friends by how often they visit us. We shouldn't confuse polite ceremony and business dealings with genuine affection. Caius Gracchus, and later Livius Drusus, introduced a Roman custom of ranking their visitors. Some were brought into their private study, others only made it to the waiting room. Still others had to wait in the hall or courtyard. They created first-class, second-class, and third-class friends. But none of them were true friends. They were just called friends out of habit, the same way we politely address strangers with respectful titles. You can't depend on people who only pay you courtesy visits when it's their turn. These people slip through the door rather than truly enter it. Anyone who looks for a friend in a palace or tests friendship at a party will be greatly disappointed.
The great difficulty rests in the choice of him; that is to say, in the first place, let him be virtuous, for vice is contagious, and there is no trusting the sound and the sick together; and he ought to be a wise man too, if a body knew where to find him; but in this case, he that is least ill is best, and the highest degree of human prudence is only the most venial folly. That friendship where men’s affections are cemented by an equal and by a common love of goodness, it is not either hope or fear, or any private interest, that can ever dissolve it: but we carry it with us to our graves, and lay down our lives for it with satisfaction. Paulina’s good and mine (says our author) were so wrapped up together, that in consulting her comfort I provided for my own; and when I could not prevail upon her to take less care for me, she prevailed upon me to take more care for myself.
The great difficulty lies in choosing the right person. First, he must be virtuous, because vice spreads like a disease. You can't trust the healthy and the sick to stay together safely. He should also be wise, if you knew where to find such a person. But in this case, whoever is least flawed is best. The highest level of human wisdom is still just the most forgivable kind of foolishness. True friendship happens when people's hearts are united by an equal and shared love of goodness. No hope, fear, or selfish interest can ever break that bond. We carry it with us to our graves and gladly lay down our lives for it. Paulina's well-being and mine (says our author) were so intertwined that when I looked out for her comfort, I was taking care of myself too. When I couldn't convince her to worry less about me, she convinced me to take better care of myself.
Some people make it a question, whether is the greatest delight, the enjoying of an old friendship, or the acquiring of a new one? but it is in the preparing of a friendship, and in the possession of it, as it is with the husbandman in sowing and reaping; his delight is the hope of his labor in the one case, and the fruit of it in the other. My conversation lies among my books, but yet in the letters of a friend, methinks I have his company; and when I answer them, I do not only write, but speak: and, in effect, a friend is an eye, a heart, a tongue, a hand, at all distances. When friends see one another personally, they do not see one another as they do when they are divided, where the meditation dignifies the prospect; but they are effectually in a great measure absent even when they are present. Consider their nights apart, their private studies, their separate employments, and necessary visits; and they are almost as much together divided as present. True friends are the whole world to one another; and he that is a friend to himself is also a friend to mankind. Even in my very studies, the greatest delight I take in what I learn is the teaching of it to others; for there is no relish, methinks, in the possession of anything without a partner; nay, if wisdom itself were offered me upon condition only of keeping it to myself, I should undoubtedly refuse it.
Some people wonder which brings greater joy: enjoying an old friendship or making a new one. But preparing a friendship and having it is like a farmer sowing and reaping. His delight comes from hoping for results when he plants, and from the harvest when he reaps. I spend my time with my books, but when I read letters from a friend, I feel like he's with me. When I write back, I'm not just writing but actually talking to him. A friend becomes your eyes, heart, voice, and hands, no matter how far apart you are. When friends meet in person, they don't really see each other the way they do when separated. Distance makes the connection more meaningful through reflection. Even when together, they're largely absent from each other. Think about their separate nights, private studies, different jobs, and necessary visits. They're almost as connected when apart as when present. True friends are everything to each other. Someone who is a friend to himself is also a friend to all people. Even in my studies, my greatest pleasure in learning comes from teaching others. I find no satisfaction in having anything without someone to share it with. If wisdom itself were offered to me on the condition that I keep it only to myself, I would certainly refuse it.
Lucilius tells me, that he was written to by a friend, but cautions me withal not to say anything to him of the affair in question; for he himself stands upon the same guard. What is this but to affirm and to deny the same thing in the same breath, in calling a man a friend, whom we dare not trust as our own soul? For there must be no reserves in friendship: as much deliberation as you please before the league is struck, but no doubtings or jealousies after. It is a preposterous weakness to love a man before we know him, and not to care for him after. It requires time to consider of a friendship, but the resolution once taken, entitles him to my very heart. I look upon my thoughts to be as safe in his breast as in my own: I shall, without any scruple, make him the confidant of my most secret cares and counsels.
Lucilius tells me that a friend wrote to him, but he warns me not to mention anything about this matter to the friend. He says he's being just as cautious himself. But this makes no sense. How can you call someone a friend while denying and affirming the same thing at once? How can you call someone a friend when you don't dare trust him like your own soul? True friendship should have no secrets. Take all the time you need to think before you make the friendship. But once you do, there should be no doubts or jealousy afterward. It's foolish and backwards to love someone before you know them, then stop caring once you do know them. Friendship does take time to consider. But once I've made that decision, that person has access to my very heart. I believe my thoughts are as safe with him as they are with me. I'll share my deepest worries and most private plans without hesitation.
It goes a great way toward the making of a man faithful, to let him understand that you think him so: and he that does but so much as suspect that I will deceive him gives me a kind of right to cozen him. When I am with my friend, methinks I am alone, and as much at liberty to speak anything as to think it, and as our hearts are one, so must be our interest and convenience; for friendship lays all things in common, and nothing can be good to the one that is ill to the other. I do not speak of such a community as to destroy one another’s propriety; but as the father and the mother have two children, not one apiece, but each of them two.
Trust goes a long way in making someone faithful. Let them know you believe in them. If someone suspects I might deceive them, they're almost giving me permission to do it. When I'm with my friend, I feel like I'm alone. I can speak as freely as I think. Since our hearts are united, our interests and needs should be too. Friendship puts everything in common. Nothing can be good for one friend if it harms the other. I'm not talking about the kind of sharing that destroys personal property. Think of it like parents with two children. The father doesn't have one child and the mother another. They each have two children.
But let us have a care, above all things, that our kindness be rightfully founded; for where there is any other invitation to friendship than the friendship itself, that friendship will be bought and sold. He derogates upon the majesty of it that makes it only dependent upon good fortune. It is a narrow consideration for a man to please himself in the thought of a friend, “because,” says he, “I shall have one to help me when I am sick, in prison, or in want.” A brave man should rather take delight in the contemplation of doing the same offices for another. He that loves a man for his own sake is in an error. A friendship of interest cannot last any longer than the interest itself, and this is the reason that men in prosperity are so much followed, and when a man goes down the wind, nobody comes near him.
But we must be careful, above all, that our kindness has the right foundation. When there's any reason for friendship other than friendship itself, that friendship can be bought and sold. Anyone who makes friendship depend only on good fortune takes away from its dignity. It's a shallow way of thinking for someone to be pleased with a friend just because, as he says, "I'll have someone to help me when I'm sick, in prison, or in need." A brave person should instead take joy in thinking about doing the same things for another person. Someone who loves a person only for his own benefit is making a mistake. A friendship based on self-interest can't last any longer than the interest itself. This is why people in prosperity have so many followers, and when someone's fortunes decline, nobody comes near him.
Temporary friends will never stand the test. One man is forsaken for fear of profit, another is betrayed. It is a negotiation, not a friendship, that has an eye to advantages; only, through the corruption of times, that which was formerly a friendship is now become a design upon a booty: alter your testament, and you lose your friend. But my end of friendship is to have one dearer to me than myself, and for the saving of whose life I would cheerfully lay down my own; taking this along with me, that only wise men can be friends, others are but companions; and that there is a great difference also betwixt love and friendship; the one may sometimes do us hurt, the other always does us good, for the one friend is hopeful to another in all cases, as well in prosperity as in affliction. We receive comfort, even at a distance, from those we love, but then it is light and faint; whereas, presence and conversation touch us to the quick, especially if we find the man we love to be such a person as we wish.
Temporary friends will never last. One person gets abandoned when money is at stake, another gets betrayed. This isn't friendship at all—it's a business deal focused on personal gain. Because of how corrupt our times have become, what used to be genuine friendship has turned into scheming for profit. Change your will, and you'll lose your friend. But my goal in friendship is to have someone who means more to me than I do to myself. I would gladly give up my life to save theirs. I believe that only wise people can be true friends. Everyone else is just a companion. There's also a big difference between love and friendship. Love can sometimes hurt us, but friendship always helps us. A true friend gives us hope in every situation, whether we're doing well or struggling. We can find comfort from people we love even when they're far away, but that comfort feels light and weak. Being together and talking face to face affects us much more deeply. This is especially true when we discover that the person we love is exactly the kind of person we hoped they would be.
It is usual with princes to reproach the living by commending the dead, and to praise those people for speaking truth from whom there is no longer any danger of hearing it. This is Augustus’s case: he was forced to banish his daughter Julia for her common and prostituted impudence; and still upon fresh informations, he was often heard to say, “If Agrippa or Mecenas had been now alive, this would never have been.” But yet where the fault lay may be a question; for perchance it was his own, that had rather complain for the want of them than seek for others as good. The Roman losses by war and by fire, Augustus could quickly supply and repair; but for the loss of two friends he lamented his whole life after.
Rulers often criticize the living by praising the dead. They celebrate people for speaking truth when there's no longer any risk of actually hearing it. This was Augustus's situation. He was forced to banish his daughter Julia because of her shameless and public misconduct. Even after receiving new reports about her behavior, he would often say, "If Agrippa or Mecenas were still alive, this never would have happened." But we might question where the real fault lay. Perhaps it was his own fault for preferring to complain about missing his old advisors rather than finding new ones just as good. Augustus could quickly replace and repair Roman losses from war and fire. But he mourned the loss of his two friends for the rest of his life.
Xerxes, (a vain and a foolish prince) when he made war upon Greece, one told him, “It would never come to a battle”;another, “That he would find only empty cities and countries, for they would not so much as stand the very fame of his coming;” others soothed him in the opinion of his prodigious numbers; and they all concurred to puff him up to his destruction; only Damaratus advised him not to depend too much upon his numbers, for he would rather find them a burden to him than an advantage: and that three hundred men in the straits of the mountains would be sufficient to give a check to his whole army; and that such an accident would undoubtedly turn his vast numbers to his confusion. It fell out afterward as he foretold, and he had thanks for his fidelity. A miserable prince, that among so many thousand subjects had but one servant to tell him the truth!
Xerxes was a vain and foolish prince who made war on Greece. One advisor told him, "It will never come to a battle." Another said, "You'll find only empty cities and countries. They won't even stand to face the fame of your coming." Others flattered him about his enormous army. They all worked together to puff him up toward his own destruction. Only Damaratus advised him not to depend too much on his numbers. He said Xerxes would find them more of a burden than an advantage. Three hundred men in the mountain passes would be enough to stop his whole army. Such an event would certainly turn his vast numbers against him. Everything happened just as Damaratus predicted, and he was thanked for his honesty. What a miserable prince! Among so many thousand subjects, he had only one servant willing to tell him the truth.