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Essays (1625) |
Sir Francis Bacon |
| 1 |
IT had beene hard for
him that spake it, to
haue put more Truth
and vntruth together,
in few Words, then in
that speech; Whosoeuer
is delighted in solitude, is either a wilde Beast,
or a God. For it is most true, that a Naturall and secret Hatred, and Auersation
towards Society, in any Man, hath somewhat of the sauage Beast; But it is most
Vntrue, that it should haue any Character, at all, of the Diuine Nature; Except
it proceed, not out of a Pleasure in Solitude, but out of a Loue and desire, to sequester a Mans Selfe, for a higher Conuersation: Such as is found, to haue been
falsely and fainedly, in some of the Heathen; As Epimenides the Candian, Numa
the Roman, Empedocles the Scicilian, and
Apollonius of Tyana; And truly and really, in diuers of the Ancient Hermits, and
Holy Fathers of the Church. But little doe
Men perceiue, what Solitude is, and how
farre it extendeth. For a Crowd is not
Company; And Faces are but a Gallery
of Pictures; And Talke but a Tinckling
Cymball, where there is no Loue. The Latine Adage meeteth with it a little; | 2 |
A principall Fruit of Friendship, is the
Ease and Discharge f the Fulnesse and
Swellings of the Heart, which Passions
of all kinds doe 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
Minde: You may take Sarza to open the
Liuer; Steele to open the Spleene; Flower
of Sulphur for the Lungs; Castoreum for
the Braine; but no Receipt openeth the
Heart, But a true Friend, to whom you
may impart, Griefes, Ioyes, Feares, Hopes,
Suspicions, Counsels, and whatsoeuer lieth vpon the Heart, to oppresse it, in a kind
of Ciuill Shrift or Confession.
| 3 |
It is a Strange Thing to obserue, how
high a Rate, Great Kings and Monarchs,
do set vpon this Fruit of Friendship, wherof we speake: So great, as they purchase it,
many times, at the hazard of their owne
Safety, and Greatnesse. For Princes, in regard of the distance of their Fortune, from
that of their Subiects & Seruants, cannot
gather this Fruit; Except (to make Themselues capable thereof) they raise some
Persons, to be as it were Companions, and
almost Equals to themselues, which many
times sorteth to Inconuenience. The
Moderne Languages giue vnto such Persons, the Name of Fauorites, or Priuadoes;
As if it were Matter of Grace, or Conuersation. But the Roman Name attaineth
the true Vse, 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 Weake
and Passionate Princes onely, but by the
Wisest, and most Politique that euer reigned; Who haue oftentimes ioyned to
themselues, some of their Seruants; Whom
both Themselues haue called Frends;
And allowed Others likewise to call them
in the same manner; Vsing the Word
which is receiued between Priuate Men.
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L. Sylla, when he commanded Rome,
raised Pompey (after surnamed the Great)
to that Heigth, that Pompey vaunted Himselfe for Sylla's Ouermatch. For when he
had carried the Consulship for a Frend of
his, against the pursuit of Sylla, and that
Sylla did a little resent thereat, and began
to speake great, Pompey turned vpon him
againe, and in effect bad him be quiet;
For that more Men adored the sunne Rising, then the Sunne setting. With Iulius Cæsar, Decimus Brutus had obtained that Interest, as he set him downe, in his Testament, for Heire in Remainder, after his
Nephew. And this was the Man, that had
power with him, to draw him forth to
his death. For when Cæsar would haue
discharged the Senate, in regard of some
ill Presages, and specially a Dreame of Calpurnia; This Man lifted him gently by the
Arme, out of his Chaire, telling him, he
hoped he would not dismisse the Senate,
till his wife had dreamt a better Dreame.
And it seemeth, his fauour was so great, as
Antonius in a Letter, which is recited Verbatim, in one of Cicero's Philippiques, calleth him Venefica, Witch; As if he had enchanted Cæsar. Augustus raised Agrippa
(though of meane Birth) to that Heighth,
as when he consulted with Mæcenas, about the Marriage of his Daughter Iulia,
Mæcenas tooke the Liberty to tell him;
That he must either marry his Daughter to
Agrippa, or take away his life, there was no
third way, he had made him so great. With Tiberius Cæsar, Seianus had ascended to that
Height, as they Two were tearmed and
reckoned, as a Paire of Frends. Tiberius
in a Letter to him saith; | 5 |
It is not to be forgotten, what Commineus obserueth, of his first Master Duke
Charles the Hardy; Namely, that hee
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 closenesse did impaire, and
a little perish his vnderstanding. Surely
Commineus mought haue made the same
Iudgement also, if it had pleased him, of
his Second Master Lewis the Eleuenth,
whose closenesse was indeed his Tormentour. The Parable of Pythagoras is darke,
but true; Cor ne edito; Eat not the Heart.
Certainly, if a Man would giue it a hard
Phrase, Those that want Frends to open
themselues vnto, are Canniballs of their
owne Hearts. But one Thing is most Admirable, (wherewith I will conclude this
first Fruit of frendship) which is, that this
Communicating of a Mans Selfe to his
Frend, works two contrarie Effects; For
it redoubleth Ioyes, and cutteth Griefes in
Halfes. For there is no Man, that imparteth his Ioyes to his Frend, but he ioyeth
the more; And no Man, that imparteth
his Griefes to his Frend, but hee grieueth
the lesse. So that it is, in Truth of Operation vpon a Mans Minde, of like vertue,
as the Alchymists vse to attribute to their
Stone, for Mans Bodie; That it worketh
all Contrary Effects, but still to the Good,
and Benefit of Nature. But yet, without
praying in Aid of Alchymists, there is a
manifest Image of this, in the ordinarie
course of Nature. For in Bodies, Vnion
strengthneth and cherisheth any Naturall
Action; And, on the other side, weakneth
and dulleth any violent Impression: And
euen so is it of Minds.
| 6 |
The second Fruit of Frendship, is
Healthfull and Soueraigne for the Vnderstanding, as the first is for the Affections.
For Frendship maketh indeed a faire Day
in the Affections, from Storme and Tempests: But it maketh Day-light in the Vnderstanding, out of Darknesse and Confusion of Thoughts. Neither is this to be vnderstood, onely of Faithfull Counsell,
which a Man receiueth from his Frend;
But before you come to that, certaine it
is, that whosoeuer hath his Minde fraught,
with many Thoughts, his Wits and Vnderstanding doe clarifie and breake vp, in
the Communicating and discoursing
with Another: He tosseth his Thoughts,
more easily; He marshalleth them more
orderly; He seeth how they looke when
they are turned into Words; Finally, He
waxeth wiser then Himselfe; And that
more by an Houres discourse, then by a
Dayes 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 appeare in Figure; whereas in Thoughts, they
lie but as in Packs. Neither is this Second
Fruit of Frendship, in opening the Vnderstanding, restrained onely to such Frends,
as are able to giue a Man Counsell: (They
indeed are best) But euen, without that, a
Man learneth of Himselfe, and bringeth
his owne Thoughts to Light, and whetteth his Wits as against a Stone, which it
selfe cuts not. In a word, a Man were better relate himselfe, to a Statua, or Picture,
then to suffer his Thoughts to passe in
smother.
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Adde now, to make this Second Fruit
of Frendship compleat, that other Point,
which lieth more open, and faileth within
Vulgar Obseruation; which is Faithfull
Counsell from a Frend. Heraclitus saith
well, in one of his AEnigmaes; Dry Light
is euer the best. And certaine it is, that the
Light, that a Man receiueth, by Counsell
from Another, is Drier, and purer, then
that which commeth from his owne Vnderstanding, and Iudgement; which is
euer infused and drenched in his Affections and Customes. So as, there is as much
difference, betweene the Counsell, that a
Frend giueth, and that a Man giueth himselfe, as there is between the Counsell of a
Frend, and of a Flatterer. For there is no
such Flatterer, as is a Mans Selfe; And
there is no such Remedy, against Flattery of a Mans Selfe, as the Liberty of a
Frend. Counsell is of two Sorts; The one
concerning Manners, the other concerning Businesse. For the First; The best
Preseruatiue to keep the Minde in Health,
is the faithfull Admonition of a Frend.
The Calling of a Mans Selfe, to a Strict
Account, is a Medicine, sometime, too
Piercing and Corrosiue. Reading good
Bookes of Morality, is a little Flat, and
Dead. Obseruing our Faults in Others,
is sometimes vnproper for our Case. But
the best Receipt (best (I say) to worke,
and best to take) is the Admonition of a
Frend. It is a strange thing to behold,
what grosse Errours, and extreme Absurdities, Many (especially of the greater
Sort) doe commit, for want of a Frend,
to tell them of them; To the great
dammage, both of their Fame, & Fortune. For,
as S. Iames saith, they are as Men, that looke
sometimes into a Glasse, and presently forget
their own Shape, & Fauour. As for Businesse,
a Man may thinke, if he will, that two Eyes
see no more then one; Or that a Gamester seeth alwaies more then a Looker on;
Or that a Man in Anger, is as Wise as he,
that hath said ouer the foure and twenty
Letters; Or that a Musket may be shot off,
aswell vpon the Arme, as vpon a Rest;
And such other fond and high Imaginations, to thinke Himselfe All in All. But
when all is done, the Helpe of good Counsell, is that, which setteth Businesse straight.
And if any Man thinke, that he will take
Counsell, but it shall be by Peeces; Asking
Counsell in one Businesse of one Man, and
in another Businesse of another Man; It
is well, ( that is to say, better perhaps then
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
Frend, to haue Counsell giuen, but such
as shalbe bowed and crooked to some
ends, which he hath that giueth it. The
other, that he shall haue Counsell giuen,
hurtfull, and vnsafe, (though with good
Meaning) and mixt, partly of Mischiefe,
and partly of Remedy: Euen as if you
would call a Physician, that is thought
good, for the Cure of the Disease, you complaine of, but is vnacquainted with your
body; And therefore, may put you in way
for a present Cure, but ouerthroweth
your Health in some other kinde; And so
cure the Disease, and kill the Patient. But
a Frend, that is wholly acquainted with a
Mans Estate, will beware by furthering
any present Businesse, how he dasheth vpon other Inconuenience. And therefore,
rest not vpon Scattered Counsels; They will
rather distract, and Misleade, then Settle,
and Direct.
| 8 |
After these two Noble Fruits of Frendship; (Peace in the Affections, and Support
of the Iudgement,) followeth the last Fruit;
which is like the Pomgranat, full of many
kernels; I meane Aid, and Bearing a Part,
in all Actions, and Occasions. Here, the best
Way, to represent to life the manifold vse
of Frendship, is to cast and see, how many
Things there are, which a Man cannot
doe Himselfe; And then it will appeare,
that it was a Sparing Speech of the Ancients, to say, That a Frend is another Himselfe: For that a Frend is farre more then
Himselfe. Men haue 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
Worke, Or the like. If a Man haue a true Frend,
he may rest almost secure, that the
Care of those Things, will continue after
Him. So that a Man hath as it were two
Liues in his desires. A Man hath a Body,
and that Body is confined to a Place; But
where Frendship is, all Offices of Life, are as it were granted to Him, and his Deputy. For he may exercise them by his Frend.
How many Things are there, which a
Man cannot, with any Face or Comelines,
say or doe Himselfe? A Man can scarce
alledge his owne Merits with modesty,
much lesse extoll them: A man cannot
sometimes brooke to Supplicate or Beg:
And a number of the like. But all these
Things, are Gracefull in a Frends Mouth,
which are Blushing in a Mans Owne. So
againe, a Mans Person hath many proper
Relations, which he cannot put off. A
Man cannot speake to his Sonne, but as a
Father; To his Wife, but as a Husband;
To his Enemy, but vpon Termes: whereas a Frend may speak, as the Case requires,
and not as it sorteth with the Person. But
to enumerate these Things were endlesse:
I haue giuen the Rule, where a Man cannot fitly play his owne Part: If he haue
not a Frend, he may quit the Stage.
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UTEL [ History of English | English Composition | Literary Authors | Literary Works | Literary Criticism ]