The falshood of human virtue a moral essay / done out of French.

CHAP. III. FRIENDSHIP. (Book 3)

FRiendship is a rational Inclination, which abides in the person that gave it Birth. 'Tis the original of all the Hap∣piness that is to be tasted in Life. Who can think Life it self alive, said the ancient Poet Ennius, without the sweet enjoyment of Friendship?

Who can live without Friends, says Aristotle, tho he enjoy'd all other Felicities?

If some Deity, says Cicero, should place us in a solitude, the most delightful and abounding in plenty, upon this hard condition, that we should have no Communication with any person whatsoever, would it not be impossible to lead a Life so ungrate∣ful and wearisome?

which proceeds from hence, that Man having an invincible inclination to expand himself beyond the bounds of any Confinement, becomes a troubte and burthen to himself when he

cannot gratifie his passions by imparting them to others. Now in a Desert he would be depriv'd of that Consolation; nay he could not reap that benefit by So∣ciety it self; even they who live together in the same place, would live as it were in a Desert in the midst of Company, if their Hearts were not united, or that there were not an Internal tye and association one a∣mong another; which is the reason that Friendship, which causes the union of Hearts, is so highly valued and sought for by all the World.

But this high price of Friendship, do's not consist in the sole delight, in a strict and settl'd Correspondence between two Friends.

There is yet a higher value to be set upon it, says Aristotle, because it is extreamly beneficial. For it is profita∣ble, says he, to all Ages and all Conditi∣ons. To Princes and Great Men, it is serviceable in the discharge of that Obli∣gation, which chiefly belongs to their Quality, and to share some part of their wealth to those whom they honour with their Favour. She assists with her pru∣dent Counsels those that are in Prospe∣rity; and teaches 'em that great Secret

how to avoid Envy. Poverty and all Calamities of Life look upon her as their Sanctuary. She moderates the transports of Youth by her wholesom Admonitions. She succours and comforrs old age; and they that are in•• the vigor of their years reap considerable advantages from her aid For a man that has solid and vertuous Friends gains from their ex∣periences, and fortifies himself by their example in the exercise of Vertue.

Neither does Friendship confine her self to the profit and advantage of par∣ticular persons; she assumes to her self the establishing and raising of whole Fa∣milies, and prides her self in being the source and original of the Grandeur and ••elicity of Empires. For which reason the most prudent Legislators, as Aristotle has observ'd, have taken more particular care to instruct their people how to pre∣serve perpetual Friendship one among another, then to enact severe Laws to prevent the violation of Justice. For they saw well, than Friendship might sur∣mount Justice; but that it was very im∣probable for Justice to overtop Friend∣ship. In a word, whereever Concord

reigns (which is the general Friendship of Fellow-Citizens) there is no need to fear the punishments of Injury and In∣justice; for Friends will never wrong one another, but rathermutually study each o∣thers advantage. There is no need, I say, to fear that any Citizen will encroach upon his Neighbours Estate, which Friendship has made his own; or that he will wound their reputation that is common with his own. The Concord of Citizens one among another is a powerful tye, which will not suffer any Interest to make a division; nor is the most rigorous Justice so sure a tye for the upholding and preserving of Order, as mutual Friendship.

It is not so with Justice; which not having any predominance over the Heart of man, therefore cannot so dispose it that it shall never desire to do an Injury. Nay, tho its authority be never so great, it cannot punish the Crimes of all sorts of People. For which reason Ana••harsis laught at Solon's design, when he gave him a sight of the Laws which he had made for the Commonwealth of A••hens:

Thinkst thou, said he, to curb with so weak a Rein the Malice and Violence

of Men? Know'st not, that Laws are like the Spiders Web, that catch the Flies, which the Hornets quickly snap asunder? Thus the Torments ordain'd for the punishment of Crimes, are for those persons that are miserable and without support, but the wealthy ge∣nerally escape the rigour of the Law.

Which is a Truth so well supported and confirm'd by all the reason and ex∣perience of the world, that we cannot sufficiently applaud Aristotle, where he says,

That Justice was introduced into Republics to supply and repair the de∣fects and failings of Friedship.

Let us now discourse of the Inclina∣tions of Friendship, and consider how they are contrary to those of Flattery. The latter treacherous, mean, and by ass'd, al∣ways creeps to Favour and Grandeur. The other Noble and Generous, loves the miserable, and signalizes it self in mis∣fortunes. She is kind to persons aban∣don'd, comforts and chears up the Heart oppresst with cares and secret anguish. And we should do her wrong not to place among the Vertues a Quality which com∣prehends and includes them all in one.

Nor must we forget, that it was she who wrought those Miracles which Antiquity has consecrated to her Memory; that has fam'd Greece for persons obstinately re∣solv'd to dye one for another; and cele∣brated Rome for Women abandoning their Lives that they might be inseparably uni∣ted to their Husbands.

We must acknowledge in good ear∣nest, that there can nothing be more no∣ble then what men say, and what they think concerning Friendship; only we could wish that it were real. But what is too true on the other side is this, that all the motions of Nature are Circular; they who have narrowly observ'd the Actions of men, assure us, that the mo∣motions of his Will are the same; and that he is so fix'd and devoted to him∣self, that every time he goes beyond him∣self to assist his Friends in their most pres∣sing necessities, he returns to himself by some private way; And therefore, what∣ever men believe or imagin, that he serves another to be serv'd himself; that he pro∣cures the settlement of others, to secure his own, or at least to reap the honour of his several Kindnesses. "All sorts of

Friendship, says Aristotle, are like so many Rivulets, that take their rise from the Spring of Self-love. So that that same Friendship which seems to us most pure, is but the seeking of some advantages which we hope to obtain by that kind∣ness which we do to others. True it is, that it is a neat and dextrous way of seeking, and that of all the pretences of Self-love, that of Friendship is the most honest, and that which most genteelly covers its farther intentions. For among all the various Disguises that man makes use of to succeed in the world, there is none so honourable, as when he strives and labours to appear a zealous and faithful Friend. And therefore we need not wonder if it be chiefly at the Court, where affected Friendship exposes it self; that there she erects her Theater, and puts on all her gawdy Habiliments; And lastly, that there she acts her Master-pieces, and recites her smoothest and most affectionate parts; since it is there that they who take that course to attain their ends, make the greatest advantages and obtain the highest preferments.

But if there be no true Friendship, wherefore is it, that Ministers of State and Favourites of Kings and Princes are so zealous to serve their absent and disgraced Friends? This Objection has taken deep root in the Breasts of most Men, and it is so much the more necessary to be answer'd, because the Reply will discover a kind of Mistery. I say then▪ that the good Offi∣ces which for the absent, and their dili∣gence to make their advantages of favou∣rable Conjunctures, are so far from being done out of pure kindness, that on the contrary they are the mee•• effects of Inte∣rests. A great Minister of State testifies his Zeal for his absent Friend, and presses continually that he may be recalled home. 1. Because his ••riend having assisted him to obtain the Di••nity he enjoys, that Mini∣ster had lost his Reputation, had he not gi∣ven his Friend that publick mark of his acknowledgment. 2. He does it for fear lest the King should have a bad Opinion of him, as having frequently thus conside∣red with himself; What would the King think of me, should I be silent, and do no∣thing for him, who ha•• don so much for me? 3. He has a design that his Friend

should be yet more united to his Interest. 4. He is afraid of his Enmity, should he return, and he not be concerned in procu∣ring it. 5. He has this prospect of the future, that so long as he had shewn him∣self cordial to his Friend, he should find the like that would bestir themselves in his behalf, should it be his turn to fall into disgrace. And this is a certain Demon∣stration of what I assert, That a true craf∣ty Courtier is never zealous for his absent Friends, but when he believes the King has still some remaining tenderness for 'em, but he never troubles himself for those that have utterly and irreparably lost the good Opinion of the Prince, and are irre∣coverably fall'n into his displeasure. With this sort of absent Friends, they soon break off all manner of Correspondence, and raze 'em from their remembrance, as if they never had been in the World, more miserable then the dead, who leave behind 'em many times those Friends that wish 'em alive again, that they might bestow upon 'em Employments and Offices, which they have at their disposal: Men being gene∣rally so courteous, so human and gene∣rous, that they are always ready to bestow

their Favours upon those that are not in a condition to accept of their Kindness.

After all that has been said, no Man will think it an irrational Astonishment, that so sublime an Intellect, as that of Cicero, should follow all the Vulgar Opinions, con∣cerning this subject of Friendship; and that of all the true Arguments that prove there is not any true and unbyass'd Friend∣ship, not one should be able to open his Eyes.

'Tis strange, says Cicero, That seeing there are so many Millions of Men, all strictly bound by the same tye of nature, we shall hardly throughout the whole extent of the Earth, find two real Friends.

But this can be no wonder to those who apprehend that Man is a Prisoner to him∣self, and that self-love is a kind of Waiter that attends him every time he stirs abroad, and brings him home again: For it is apparent, that Man being in such a condition is not capable of Friendship; seeing that by the means of Friendship, he ought to enter into his Friend, and remain in the person▪ whom he loves.

'Tis a shame, says Cicero, That a Command, an Employment, Mony or Reputation,

should have the power to ruin the most friendly contracted Friendships, and that two Men so strongly united and ri∣vited together, should so easily become Rivals.

And indeed it is no way proper, that a Man who wishes his Friend as well or better then himself, should be afflicted at the increase of his Wealth or Honour; nevertheless, it creates those Jealousies that rend his very Heart, and maugre all the violence which he uses to himself, they ap∣pear in his Countenance. And therefore it is false, that he wishes his Friend those advantages of Honour and Preferment, out of any sentiment of sincerity, as a votary for his Welfare. And this reason alone should be enough to dissipate that same darkness which blinds the World; force it to acknowledge, that Man is only amo∣rous of himself.

I cannot endure, says the same Author, That Men should make love to grow from Business and Interest, and that they ascribe so mean a birth to a quality so exalted; for what have I to do with Scipio, or wherein can I be service∣able to him?

I shall answer his Question with another; For I would fain know, whether there be no more then one thing

of which a man stands in need, whether it be not as necessary for him to acquire Ho∣nour, as to heap up Riches; and whether all things which he does not enjoy, and which are proper to satisfy his natural in∣clinations, are not so many Indigencies? But what are these wants and these inte∣rests that destroy those amities, which to us seem so sincere? that we shall see in due place: in the mean time, Cicero must give us leave to assure him (with Plato,) That Friendship had its birth from Indigence.

To this we may add, That of all the Errors which Cicero has maintained upon this Subject, that is the absurdest which undertakes to prove, That Freindship not only equals the Fortunes of Friends, by laying their Estates in common, but also le∣vels our Sentiments for them, with those that we have for our selves.

Insomuch, says he, That the Name of Friendship perishes, if the Affection for our Freinds be not: as sincere, as great, as strong, and as ten∣der, as that which we bear to our selves: Whence it comes to pass, that we call a Freind our Other Self, and that we say, that two Persons link't together in

Friendship, have but one Heart and one Will.

But whatever these Proverbs signifie, certain it is, says Aristotle, That there is nothing comes near the Friendship which we have for our selves; and that it is both the beginning and the end of that which we have for others: there∣fore where a Man shares his Estate with his Friend, where he surrenders to him the Employment which he enjoys, where he gives him all the Honour that they have acquired together, upon the same occasion; when he retires and leaves to his Friend the entire Glory of an Illustrous Atchievement: all these Acts, says the Philosopher, proceed from hence, that Man is still first a Freind to himself. For he does all these things with a real intent, that they should re∣turn to himself, since they all redound to his Satisfaction and his Honour.

But how comes it to pass, that so many persons believe they serve their Friends, out of pure and sincere Love, and that they do not perceive, that they seek them∣selves in the Services which they render 'em? I answer, That we do not perceive

what we do for our selves, in what we do for others, because that the most part of the time, the motives that engage us to act, ly concealed in our Breasts; and we rather choose to perswade our selves, that we act generously and bravely, then to study the knowledge of our selves, or to inform our selves of our secret intentions. For should we be taken up with these Cares, and fre∣quently examine our own Hearts, they would soon discover the secret Springs that move us and govern our Actions, when we also be most regardless of Self-Interest, and would Demonstrate to us, that there is nothing so profitable or delightful to us, or that flatters our ostentation so much, as the very thing we seek for, when it seems to us, that we seek nothing at all.

We must therefore acknowledge that Cicero had the true Idea of Friendship, and that he has given a most exact Definition of it, where he says, Than Friendship is the perfect Ʋnion of two vertuous Persons; and That it is an Affection reciprocal, con∣stant, sincere and unbyass'd: and we would willingly have subscrib'd to his Opinion, if instead of saying, This is Friendship, he had said, This is that which Friendship

ought to be. He also spoke much better then he thought he had, when he affirms Friendship to be a Divine Vertue, since it is no where to be found, but among men tru∣ly Divine; I mean among true Christians. For the Freindship which they profess one to another, having its Original from God, who always acts sincerely for the good of his Creatures, obliges 'em to procure the Advantages of their Friends, without any respect to themselves.

As for the Arguments he brings to prove, that Men are capable of a real Friendship, they are extreamly weak: But the most sinewy is this.

We find, says he, That Vertue is amiable by our natural inclinations: For if a sane Con∣stitution pleases us, if Riches and Honor have their allurements, how is it possible but that we should be smitten with Beauty and charms of Vertue? She it is that gives Life to Freindship, and ren∣ders her powerful and indissoluble; two vertuous persons no sooner cast an Eye one upon another, but they con∣ceive a reciprocal Affection, so that there is no other ground of their Amity but their Merit; and as for Profit and Plea∣sure,

which have no share in the pro∣duction, they are only the pleasing fruits of the happy Conjunction.

This is a specious Argument, and dazles those that only slightly examine it. But they who more seriously pry into it, may easily discover the Falacy: For 'tis appa∣rent to all the World, that if there be no real Freindship, but what is founded upon Vertue, it is impossible that Vertue should stand when the Foundation is demolished, that is to say, if there be no sincere Vertue, which is the work of this Treatise to De∣monstrate.

Add to this, that tho we should suppose there were Vertues real and sincere, yet would it not follow, that they were belo∣ved for themselves, so long as it is so appa∣rent, that no man tries Vertue, but only for his own interest; nor is it the uprightness of the Law which makes him love the just; but he has therefore a kindness for just per∣sons, because they offer no violence either to his Estate or Honour. Besides that, we are to observe, That the most excellent Vertue, and most proper to beget Esteem and Honour, for those who enjoy those per∣fections

of endowment, more frequenly awaken our Jealousie and our Envy.

We shall see that Seneca is not much more to be admir'd then Cicero, when we hear him recount the wonders of Friend∣ship. Friendship, says he, is so pure a thing, That neither the expectation of Wealth, nor ambition of Honour, nor prospect of any sort of Interest, contributes to its Birth. Where∣fore then do we seek to make Friends? I would make Friends, to give 'em a share of my Estate, to accompany 'em in Exile, to suf∣fer with 'em, the utmost rigour of their Mis∣fortune: and I would make Friends to dye for 'em, if there were occasion.

Now I would beg of those that have ne∣ver so little knowledge of the Heart of Man, if ever Friendship of this nature had beginning there, and whether it be possi∣ble for a man to raise the Platform of such a Friendship, for the sake of which he would ardently desire to despoil himself of his Estate, to sacrifice his Life, and take upon himself the ponderous weight of another mans Calamities. In good earnest, he must have a great tenderness for self-delusion, who admits such a Dream or Vision as this, for real Truth. And that which must

convince us, That there never was any such Friendship in nature, but that it is only a Chimera residing in the Imagination; is this, That if we should put the Questi∣on to Seneca, where any Friends are to be found, and where not; he would answer, That they crowd in throngs after Persons in Prosperity, but that there is not one to be seen near the Cells of the Dis∣astrous.

This same Truth, sufficient of it self to have defac'd in Seneca's Thoughts, those amiable Ideas of the Purity and Excel∣lency of Friendship which he had fanci∣ed to himself, deserves to be supported with some Examples. Among which, that of Queen Margaret is very Remarkable; She tells us, in her Memoirs, That being Ar∣rested in her Appartment, as they carried her cross the Court of the Lovre; they, who the day before, thought themselves happy, if she but vouchsafed to cast a look upon 'em, no sooner perceived her, but they turned their backs upon her. And that which Strada relates of Charles the Fifth is no less Remarkable. He tells us how strangely that Emperor was Astoni∣shed, when entring into Spain, after he had

made an absolute Resignation of his Em∣pire, and all his other Dominions, he per∣ceiv'd, by the small number of persons of Quality that came to meet him, That how Glorious soever the Person of a Prince may seem, 'tis not that, but the flourishing Condition of their Fortune, which Cour∣tiers adore. And then it was, saith the Historian, that Charles himself was deeply sensible, what it was to be a Prince, with∣out either Sov'raignty or Title, and that he saw himself stripp'd like a naked Man.

Thus we have seen the Errors of Cicero and Seneca, touching Friendship; yet as absurd as they were, they are not to be compar'd with those of Montaigne; who, tho a person of so much Sense and Solidi∣ty, has discours'd of Friendship like one in Delirium: And the reason why he has so grossly mistaken upon this Subject; is, the great Affection which he has for gay Ima∣ginations, lofty and extraordinary Fancies; especially, when he finds in those Imagi∣nations, that there is any thing that flat∣ters him, and which makes for his Advan∣tage. And hence it is, That after he has laugh'd at all those Ties and Obligations

between several Persons; to which, he says, men give so rashly the name of Friendship, he maintains, That there are not only real Friendships, but such Friendships where Men forget all thoughts of Service and Kindness for all others, but only the Party belov'd; where they so entirely abandon themselves to their Affection, that they do not reserve to themselves, so much as the disposal of their own Will: His words are these.

Among us men, there is not any foot∣steps, of Friendship to be seen. All those sorts of Friendship, which Profit, Plea∣sure, Publick or Private Business, have begot and cherished, cannot be said to be Friendships, in regard they intermix another End, another Cause and Benefit then themselves. Perfect Amity is indis∣soluble, every man surrenders himself up so entirely to his Friend, that there re∣mains nothing for him to bestow else∣where. He is perplexed that he has not several Souls and several Wills, that he might dispose of all to his Friend. This Friendship possesses the Soul, and go∣verns her with an absolute Soveraignty: this Friendship which must be only and

singular, defaces all other Obligations. The Secret which I have sworn not to discover to any other, I may without Perjury communicate to him, who is not another person, but my self: My Friend∣ship with Stephen Boeotia, has no other Idea but it self, and has only reference and relation to my self. It hales and draggs away my Will to plunge and lose it self in the Will of my Friend, and then sear∣ches his whole Will, it hales it back a∣gain to plunge and lose it self in mine, with an equal thirst and concurrence. In this sort of Friendship, every thing lyes common, Will, Thoughts, Wives, Chil∣dren, Honors and Estate.

Then speak∣ing in the same place concerning Blosius, the friend of Gracchus, who vow'd he would have fired the Temple, had his Friend desired it;

They, says he, who condemn the words of Blosius as Sediti∣ous, do not well understand the Mistery of Friendship:

for they were greater Friends one to another, then to their fellow-Citizens, or to their Country.

Can there be imagined a stranger blind∣ness then this, to confound Friendship with Love, and to ascribe to a vertuous Inclina∣tion,

the Injustices and Transportments of Passions the most violent? For then it is the part of Love to devote a man entirely to the person whom he loves, and to make him forget his Duty to God, his King, his Parents, and his Friends: for such is the fury of this Passion that it transverses Rea∣son, whose proper office it is, to mark out to every man, and oblige him to the ob∣servance of all his Duties. This is the Employment of Reason so long as she raigns in the Body, and she is no less care∣ful to preserve Man so steady, in the ob∣servation of Devoirs, that she never suffers him to violate the least particular; or that he should be wanting in his performances to God, to acquit himself of his Affection to the best or most faithful of his Friends; tho he were beholding to him for his Life it self. And therefore what Montaigne af∣firms: That Frieuship has a Priviledge to dispense with all Laws, and to render us in∣nocently Impious, Sacrilegious and Infidels; is equally contradictory, both to Reason and Religion, which is apparent from hence, that the Pagan Theoligie teaches no such Doctrine, but rather the contrary, that we never ought to injure Piety, un∣der

pretence of satisfying the strictest Obligations of Friendship.

As for that other Assertion of Mon∣taigne, That the Secret which he has sworn never to reveal to another, he may without Perjury communicate to his Freind, who is not another but himself: it needs no an∣swer, for what shall we say to a man, who by a childish piece of subtilty, and a pretty Equivocation, pretends to justify Perjury, and the violation of plighted Troth.

Nor is it a less shame for that Author to extol to the Skies, those Roman Ladies, who chuse rather to kill themselves and dye with their Husbands, then to survive and follow 'em hereafter; more especially the Wi••e of the Consul, Cecinna Poetus, who to rescue her Husband from the Tor∣ments that were provided for him, and to encourage him to be his own Executioner after she had Stabb'd her own Breast, pre∣sented him the Weapon, all bloody as it was, with these Words, Here Poetus, take it, it has done me no harm. I say it was not honourable in Montagne to attribute the effects of ambition to conjugal Friendship, as one that did not percieve, in the coura∣gious Resolutions of Poetus and Seneca's

Wives, to dye with their Husbands, that immoderate desire of Praise wherewith the Romans were always inflamed: accord∣ing to the Character which Virgil has given of 'em.

Laudumque immensa Cupido.

Rather it behov'd him to have given the same judgment of Arria, as the yong∣er Pliny did, from whom he had the Sto∣ry. Arria, said he, the Wife of Cecinna Poctus, taking the Dagger to kill her self, giving her self the Stabb, had before her Eyes, the perpetuity of her Honour: And this is the general Reason of these sorts of Deaths, which we call Illustrious; for which some other particular Causes, are always also alleadged. As the usual addi∣tional Reason, of these Ladies Self∣murder, beside their vanity to Immor∣talize themselves, was their dread of being exposed to the indignities of an inhuman Tyrant, abandoned to his own Lusts. This same Dread it was that had a share in the Death of Arria; for she had reason to fear, lest the Emperor Claudius, so en∣rag'd as he was against those who had ta∣ken

part with Scriboniances, should put her Husband to some cruel Death, and there make some further attempt upon her Honour. And it is as visible rhat Paulina had the same jealousies; for no sooner had Seneca her Husband receiv'd orders to dye, but she offered to be his Companion in Death, and cut her own Veins at the same time that he open'd his: Yet when Nero had assur'd her, that he had no en∣mity against her, but that he had a high value for her Vertue, and the Grandeur of her Descent, she suffer'd her Wounds to be bound up, and her Conjugal Amity permit∣ted her to live.

The Opinion of the World, saies Taci∣tus was, That Paulina was desirous to have shar'd with her Husband, the Honour of a Death so magnanimously undergon, so long as she thought Nero's resentment would not stop there, but when the Tyrant had assur'd her, and that she hop'd for better usage at his Hands then she expected, she easily surrender'd to the persuasions of those that exhorted her to live.

But Montaigns greatest shame is, That hardy Ignorance which emboldens him to reprove those that condemn the expressi∣ons

of Blosius, who vow'd he would have burnt the Capitol, had his Friend Grac∣chus desired it. These words which seem to him so wonderful, are however censu∣red by Cicero, as the Expressions of a Vil∣lain: and to the end it may appear to have been deservedly done, I will confirm those words, with what Brutus said to the Ro∣mans. Tarquinus Collatinus, my Collegue in the Consulship, is my intimate Friend; but because the name of Tarquin is detested by you all, and for that it might raise a just sus∣pition of me, I advise ye to Depose him from the Consulship. If therefore we are oblg'd to Sacrifice the Particular Interests to the Publick good; which, according to Ari∣stotle, is a Celestial Good, what are we not oblig'd to do for the sake of God, or how can we believe, that human Conside∣rations, should be more predominant, then our Reverence of his Temples? so that indeed it is a hard matter to appre∣hend, how a man in his Witts could ima∣gine, that perfect Friendship was an en∣gagement to commit any Crime, and justi∣fy the Act. Friendship, says Cicero, is a bad excuse for Miscarriages: for the first Law that it imposes upon Persons, when first

united, is neither to require or act any thing to wound the justice of the Laws. Com∣mon sence would have taught Montaign this sound Doctrine, had he not affect∣ed a particular Philosophy by himself; or, rather had not his Judgment been pervert∣ed by his Vanity: and indeed it appears, That all his Hyperbolical, yet weak and sickly Discourse concerning Friendship, proceeded from hence, that he had an i••ching desire to let the World know what rare Qualities he was endow'd withal, and that he was capable of a sort of Friend∣ship not to be parallel'd by any Ex∣ample.

True it is, That altho it be impos∣sible that his Friendship with Stephen of Boetia, should be such as he represents it; nevertheless, we find and agree, that it was no common Amity, but such a one, that we may do him justice, as ought to be ranked with that of Pliny the younger, and Corellius, or Cicero and Scipio; that is, among those Friendships that are contract∣ed without any design to advantage our Estates, and which is not to be found, but among persons of Worth and Merit, whom the Vulgar believe to be unbyass'd. How∣ever,

they are not so; in regard there is no greater profit, or which they whose In∣terests are nice and delicate, more passio∣nately desire, than what men of surpas∣sing parts (when link't together in Friend∣ship) reap from the conversation of each other. For that which engages 'em in this sort of Friendship, is the eager desire which they have to be esteem'd by a person, whom all the World admire, and to find in a Friend a competent judge of his Worth.

I have lost Corellius, said Pli∣ny the younger, and I bemoan his loss, for the love of my self, as having lost a wor∣thy Testimony of my Life and Conver∣sation. Scipio, said Cicero, was touch'd with that Love which I had for Vertue, and I was an admirer of his.

Therefore to define aright the Friendship of two men, both endued with extraordinary Quali∣ties; it is a certain League which they make one with another reciprocally to ob∣serve whatever is valuable in each, and to esteem each other according to their de∣serts.

Ordinary Friendships are civil inter∣courses, of which we expect to make se∣veral Advantages, correspondent to our

different pretensions, or to say better, to our different Passions: So that our Passi∣ons are the visible causes of all the Friend∣ships which we contract. Seeing then our desire of Wealth, is a Passion most vigo∣rous and impatient; and that there are a number of people, who have either no E∣states at all, or not sufficient to support their Quality: hence it comes to pass, that Interest is the occasion of all our ties and Friendships; hence it comes to pass, that men fast'n themselves upon Kings, their Favourites and Ministers, make use of all manner of advantages, and take upon 'em all manner of shapes, to perswade them in∣to a belief, how much they are devoted to their Service. This is the reason that men crow'd in heaps to the Courts and Pa∣laces of great Personages, as men run to the Publick Springs; for according to the saying of Euripides, When the Earth is parch'd with Drowth, then it most earnestly covets Rain.

The Passion of pleasure associates and links young People together; and because they do not always find it in one place, by reason of the several obstacles which they meet with, and for that they frequently

take distast, and grow weary, they often change Friends, as Aristotle has ob∣serv'd.

There is also a conceal'd Ambition, which is a third cause of Friendship. This we meet with in a sort of people, who de∣vote all their time, and make it their sole business to attend upon some person in high Employment, whose favour and ap∣probation renders 'em considerable in the World.

There is another sort of Ambition more easy to be discover'd, and more common, which engages several people to signalize themselves in all the affairs of their Friends, on pupose to make a noise in the World, and to put a value upon their Friend∣ship.

But Men are not only deluded by their Passions, which are the occasion many times, that they consider themselves, and secretly seek their own profit, when they think to serve their Friends, after a manner seemingly▪ altogether void of Interest. They are also absurd by their dispositions, and the qualities of their temper, which some mistake for real Inclinations and Qua∣lities of Friendship. For the Cholerie, who

act altogether violently, imagine, that when they defend their Enemies, with so much heat, it is their zeal which inflames their friendship, whereas it is their natural warmth and impetuosity that chaffs and transports 'em. The Melancholic believe they love th••se whom they affect, meerly out of a capricious and obstinate choice. Women mistake the softness of their Com∣plexion, for the tenderness of their Friend∣ship. The Sanguine perswade themselves to be more then ordinary Friends, by rea∣son they are naturally of a caressing and pleasant humor, which always enclines 'em to an obliging Conversation in Society, and a readiness to do kindnesses. Hence it is, that men can never agree upon the Subject of Friendship, and that they form so many different Idea's of it: For in re∣gard that most people derive it from their temperament, and has its Birth from the particular humor that predominates in the person, it is impossible that all men should conceive and be sensible of Friendship af∣ter one and the same manner.

Hence it is, that the Cholerick, whose Friendship, is fiery and full of transport, torment themselves, cry out and make a

noise upon the misfortunes of their Friends: whereas they who are of soft and mild disposition, in the Comedy of Friend∣ship, act only the part of Lamentation and Complaint, and sometimes think it suffici∣ent to testify their grief, by the sadness of their Countenances and their Silence. And for the same reason it is, That these two sorts of Friends, disprove and accuse one another; the mild and peacable Friend not being able to apprehend, how Friendship should consist in making a noise, and the impetuous no way approving a still and quiet Amity.

There are some Friendships which Men contract, only to obtain others, more pro∣fitable and advantagious, or to preserve or re-kindle those that begin to grow old; for the World is so judicious, and governs it self so strongly by reason, that they who desire success in their designs, are con∣strain'd to raise themselves as it were, by certain Engines, and to maintain their ground by all sorts of Artifices: and the way which the honester sort have recourse, is to fix themselves with the one, by means of others, and dextrously to make it known, that they are the Confidents of

such a Princess, or that they have access to such and such persons of Quality, that they may have admission to the Chief Ministers of State.

Here we must add to what has been already said, that men are not only false when they assure us, that they love their Friends with a true Sincerity, or feign to love those for whom they have no af∣fection; but also when they would make the world believe, that they have a great number of Friends. Which I take upon me to affirm, because there are a sort of people who being suffer'd at Court, yet neither valu'd nor belov'd, are still vaunt∣ing the great number of their Friends; so that when any person of Quality dies, they make a shew of being deeply afflict∣ed, and bewail their loss.

Before I finish this Discourse, it be∣hoves me to answer an objection that seems to carry somewhat of weight. I mean that proof of Friendship so remark∣able in Pylades and Orestes, Damon and Pythias, so obstinately resolv'd to lay down their Lives the one for the other.

We shall not go about to lessen this proof, as we might do, by alledging the

uncertainty of these examples, of which the first is no where supported by the testimony of any Historian: Nor shall I urge, the rareness of the example, that we meet with only these two; in regard we may well grant, that there has been a person in the world who offer'd to lay down his Life, nay more that he suffer'd Death for his Friend, without departing from our first Assertion, That there is no sincere and cordial Amity. For we still maintain, that a man may seem to lay down his own to preserve his Friend's Life, and yet that he suffers rather for his own Ho∣nour; that is, to purchase to himself a kind of Glory, which is to him so much the more charming, as being an act to be talk'd of altogether rare and singular.

There are some people, says Aristotle, who rather chuse to perform one noble and generous Act, then many that are frequent and usual.

Such are they who chuse to dye for their Friends. Now if it be a difficult thing to apprehend how a man can possibly resolve to suf∣fer Death, and consent to his own de∣struction, for the love of himself, we need no more then call to mind several who and

have kill'd themselves to be recorded by Posterity for men of unparallel'd courage and resolution. We may also consider, that this difficulty of conceiving such a Resolv'dness in Man, proceeds from hence, that we frame our argument of a sick person, as if we were discoursing of a person in sound health. For Ambition being one of the most violent Distempers in men, we must know, that it is able to alter his Condition, to deprave his Ap∣petite, and make him more desirous of that immortal Honour that attends a Great Action, then of long Life.

And by the same rule we are to judg of that noble proof of so great and so unusual a piece of Friendship which So∣crates gave to Alcibiades, when he sur∣render'd to him the Honour of the Victory which he won in Macedon. And we may believe, upon good grounds, that Socra∣tes foresaw, that Honour which he gave to Alcibiad••s would return to him with a much brighter lustre; and that his nice and delicate Ambition would better re∣lish the Merit of a great Action which was without example, then the Honour of winning a Battel.

Let us then with Aristotle, resolve our Friendships into Self-Love, as to their proper original; that it is rivited in the hearts of all men; and that the difference between ordinary Friendships and those between persons of Worth is only this, that they are more refin'd and conceal'd in the one, and more visible and unpo∣lish'd in the other. Let us acknowledg and sincerely c••n••ess, that when we re∣solve to do some particular act of kind∣ness for our best Friend, it proceeds from a thought, that upon some occasion which we foresee, we shall have need of him; or that he will be more careful in dis∣pleasing us, or more diligent to keep us Company. Let us confess, I say, that these motives, and some others of the same na∣ture, present themselves to our minds, and share in all our designs and resoluti∣ons to oblige those that we respect and love. But if after all that we have thus demonstratively discours'd upon this sub∣ject, there be any persons who flatter themselves, that their sentiments are more sincere then those of other men, and that their Friendship is exempt from all sort of Interest, we desire them but to reflect

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upon the Accidents that happen to most men in the course of Human Life, and then how undeniably they prove, that there is no sincere or real Friendship; Not only our Misfortunes and our Business render them unfaithful, and discover to us what they are, but we also find by woful ex∣perience, that the saying of Socrates was not without reason, when he affirm'd,

That a Man is never more at a loss then when he is oblig'd to give an account of his Friends.

Therefore true and solid Friendship is nothing else but that same Charity which unites two persons together to assist each other in the Service of God and maintain∣ing his Glory. If Cicero believ'd there were very few Friendships clear from In∣terest, we may with much more reason aver, that there are fewer Christian Ami∣ties; or rather, that they are so rare that we can hardly find one in an Age. And I am the more positive in this assertion, because that tho they seem frequent e∣nough in the imagination of those that make a profession of Piety, yet the great∣est part of such people too easily per∣swade themselves that their Friendships

are grounded upon Vertue, when they are only grounded upon Nature, and re∣ceive their Birth from Human Sympathies and corresponding Tempers. But most assuredly we shall be astonish'd when the Day of the Lord shall come, and the lustre of his grand Appearance shall disperse the night and darkness from the Hearts of Men, and discover the secret foundations of Friendship, which Men now esteem so Holy, and maintain in so profound a repose.

The Heavens, saith Job, which seem to be so clear and full of Bright∣ness, are not pure in the sight of God, nor are the Stars themselves without Sports.

And therefore the reason we have to fear, that Men seek after human satisfactions in vertuous Friendships, is this, because they who are lookt upon by the greatest part of the world as Holy Men, have very few Friends, Correspondencies, or Interests; and for that they cannot ap∣prove in most people of worth their par∣ticular obligations to Women; believing that the person that binds himself to a Woman, and devotes all his Services to her, how regular soever he may be in his Life and Conversation, is altogether sway'd

by some secret Ambition, if it be not of the number of those that are cherish'd by Diligence and Confidence.

Could we discover what lies conceal'd in the folds of mans heart, we should find in the breast of the most prudent and pious, sentiments altogether strange and surprizing. We should find a great num∣ber of Amours turn'd into Friendship; others into Zeal for the good of the Soul; others cover'd with a pretence of Kindred; we should find Amours intermix'd with Ambition, and several other sorts of such like Amours, which we could easily dis∣cover, were it proper to dive into that subject.