The Essays, vol 6 | Page 5

how much they mix
another cause, and design, and fruit in friendship, than itself. Neither do
the four ancient kinds, natural, social, hospitable, venereal, either
separately or jointly, make up a true and perfect friendship.
That of children to parents is rather respect: friendship is nourished by
communication, which cannot by reason of the great disparity, be
betwixt these, but would rather perhaps offend the duties of nature; for
neither are all the secret thoughts of fathers fit to be communicated to
children, lest it beget an indecent familiarity betwixt them; nor can the
advices and reproofs, which is one of the principal offices of friendship,
be properly performed by the son to the father. There are some
countries where 'twas the custom for children to kill their fathers; and
others, where the fathers killed their children, to avoid their being an
impediment one to another in life; and naturally the expectations of the
one depend upon the ruin of the other. There have been great
philosophers who have made nothing of this tie of nature, as Aristippus
for one, who being pressed home about the affection he owed to his
children, as being come out of him, presently fell to spit, saying, that
this also came out of him, and that we also breed worms and lice; and
that other, that Plutarch endeavoured to reconcile to his brother: "I
make never the more account of him," said he, "for coming out of the
same hole." This name of brother does indeed carry with it a fine and
delectable sound, and for that reason, he and I called one another
brothers but the complication of interests, the division of estates, and
that the wealth of the one should be the property of the other, strangely
relax and weaken the fraternal tie: brothers pursuing their fortune and
advancement by the same path, 'tis hardly possible but they must of
necessity often jostle and hinder one another. Besides, why is it
necessary that the correspondence of manners, parts, and inclinations,
which begets the true and perfect friendships, should always meet in
these relations? The father and the son may be of quite contrary
humours, and so of brothers: he is my son, he is my brother; but he is

passionate, ill-natured, or a fool. And moreover, by how much these are
friendships that the law and natural obligation impose upon us, so much
less is there of our own choice and voluntary freedom; whereas that
voluntary liberty of ours has no production more promptly and;
properly its own than affection and friendship. Not that I have not in
my own person experimented all that can possibly be expected of that
kind, having had the best and most indulgent father, even to his
extreme old age, that ever was, and who was himself descended from a
family for many generations famous and exemplary for brotherly
concord:
"Et ipse Notus in fratres animi paterni."
["And I myself, known for paternal love toward my brothers." --Horace,
Ode, ii. 2, 6.]
We are not here to bring the love we bear to women, though it be an act
of our own choice, into comparison, nor rank it with the others. The fire
of this, I confess,
"Neque enim est dea nescia nostri Qux dulcem curis miscet amaritiem,"
["Nor is the goddess unknown to me who mixes a sweet bitterness with
my love."---Catullus, lxviii. 17.]
is more active, more eager, and more sharp: but withal, 'tis more
precipitant, fickle, moving, and inconstant; a fever subject to
intermissions and paroxysms, that has seized but on one part of us.
Whereas in friendship, 'tis a general and universal fire, but temperate
and equal, a constant established heat, all gentle and smooth, without
poignancy or roughness. Moreover, in love, 'tis no other than frantic
desire for that which flies from us:
"Come segue la lepre il cacciatore Al freddo, al caldo, alla montagna, al
lito; Ne piu l'estima poi the presa vede; E sol dietro a chi fugge affretta
il piede"
["As the hunter pursues the hare, in cold and heat, to the mountain, to

the shore, nor cares for it farther when he sees it taken, and only
delights in chasing that which flees from him."--Aristo, x. 7.]
so soon as it enters unto the terms of friendship, that is to say, into a
concurrence of desires, it vanishes and is gone, fruition destroys it, as
having only a fleshly end, and such a one as is subject to satiety.
Friendship, on the contrary, is enjoyed proportionably as it is desired;
and only grows up, is nourished and improved by enjoyment, as being
of itself spiritual, and the soul growing still more refined by practice.
Under this perfect friendship, the other fleeting affections have in my
younger years found some place