IOLÄUS: AN ANTHOLOGY OF FRIENDSHIP (1908)
From the edition published in NEW YORK, by MITCHELL KENNERLEY
in MCMXVII (1917).
This etext preserves page numeration, indicated by [square
"and as to the loves of Hercules it is difficult
to record them because
of their number. But some who think that Ioläus was one
of them, do to
this day worship and honour him; and make their
loved ones swear fidelity at his tomb."
[Introduction: Edward Carpenter's Ioläus is
an attempt to provide a historical context for male friendship.
One should not be misled, however. Carpenter, one of the earliest
English homosexual activists, is writing about homosexual relationships
and trying to provide a historical grounding for them. As such
his work is of interest not only for its references, but also
as evidence of the strategies of the early gay movement .]
PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION
[iv] THE degree to which Friendship, in the early history of the
world, has been recognized as an institution, and the dignity
ascribed to it, are things hardly realized to-day. Yet a very
slight examination of the subject shows the important part it
has played. In making the following collection I have been much
struck by the remarkable manner in which the customs of various
races and times illustrate each other, and the way in which they
point to a solid and enduring body of human sentiment on the subject.
By arranging the extracts in a kind of rough chronological and
evolutionary order from those dealing with primitive races onwards,
the continuity of these customs comes out all the more clearly,
as well as their slow modification in course of time. But it must
be confessed that the present collection is only incomplete, and
a small contribution, at best, towards a large subject.
In the matter of quotation and translation, my [v] best thanks
are due to various authors and holders of literary copyrights
for their assistance and authority. In cases where no reference
is given the translations are by the Editor.
I: FRIENDSHIP-CUSTOMS IN THF. PAGAN
AND EARLY WORLD
 FRIENDSHIP-CUSTOMS, of a very marked and definite character,
have apparently prevailed among a great many primitive peoples;
but the information that we have about them is seldom thoroughly
satisfactory. Travellers have been content to note external ceremonies,
like theexchange of names between comrades, or the mutual tasting
of each other's blood, but-either from want of perception or want
of opportunity - have not been able to tell us anything about
the inner meaning of these formalities, or the sentiments which
may have inspired them. Still, we have material enough to indicate
that comrade-attachment has been recognized as an important institution,
and held in high esteem, among quite savage tribes; and some of
the following quotations will show this. When we come to the higher
culture of the Greek age the material fortunately is abundant-not
only for the customs, but (in Greek philosophy and  poetry)
for the inner sentiments which inspired these customs. Consequently
it will be found that the major part of this and the following
two chapters deals with matter from Greek sources. The later chapters
carry on the subject in loosely historical sequence through the
Christian centuries down to modern times.
THE Balonda are an African tribe inhabiting Londa land,
among the Southern tributaries of the Congo River. They were visited
by Livingstone, and the following account of their customs is
derived from him:
" The Balonda have a most remarkable custom of cementing
friendship. When two men agree to be special friends they go through
a singular ceremony. The men sit opposite each other holding hands,
and by the side of each is a vessel of beer. Slight cuts are then
made on the clasped hands, on the pit of the stomach, on the right
cheek, and on the forehead. The point of a grass-blade is pressed
against each of these cuts, so as to take up a little of the blood,
and each man washes the grass-blade in his own beer vessel. The
vessels are then exchanged and the contents drunk, so that each
imbibes the blood of the other. The two are thenceforth considered
as blood-relations, and are bound to assist each  other in
every possible manner. While the beer is being drunk, the friends
of each of the men beat on the ground with clubs, and bawl out
certain sentences as ratification of the treaty. It is thought
correct for all the friends of each party to the contract to drink
a little of the beer. The ceremony is called 'Kasendi'. After
it has been completed, gifts are exchanged! and both parties always
give their most precious possessions."
Natural History of Man. Rev. J. G. Food. Vol: Africa,
Among the Manganjas and other tribes of the Zambesi region,
Livingstone found the custom of changing names prevalent.
"Sininyane (a headman) had exchanged names with a Zulu at
Shupanga, and on being called the next morning made no answer;
to a second and third summons he paid no attention; but at length
one of his men replied, 'He is not Sininyane now, he is Moshoshoma
'; and to this name he an swered promptly. The custom of exchanging
names with men of other tribes is not uncommon; and the exchangers
regard themselves as close comrades, owing special duties to each
other ever after. Should one by chance visit his comrade's town,
he expects to receive food, lodging, and other friendly offices
Narrative of an Expedition to the Zambesi. By David and
Charles Livingstone. Murray, 1865, p. 148.
 IN the story of David and Jonathan, which follows,
we have an example, from much the same stage of primitive tribal
life, of a compact between two friends-one the son of the chief,
the other a shepherd youth-only in this case, in the song of David
(" I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan, thy love
to me was wonderful") we are fortunate in having the inner
feeling preserved for us. It should be noted that Jonathan gives
to David his "most precious possessions."
"And when Saul saw David go forth against the Philistine
(Goliath), he said unto Abner, the captain of the host, ' Abner,
whose son is this youth? ' And Abner said, ' As thy soul liveth,
O King, I cannot tell.' And the King said, ' Inquire thou whose
son the stripling is.' And as David returned from the slaughter
of the Philistine, Abner took him and brought him before Saul,
with the head of the Philistine in his hand. And Saul said to
him, ' Whose son art thou, young man?' And David answered, 'The
son of thy servant Jesse the Bethlehemite.'
" And it came to pass, when he had made an end of speaking
unto Saul, that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of
David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul. And Saul took him
that day, and would let him go no more home to his father's house.
Then Jonathan and David  made a covenant, because he loved
him as his own soul. And Jonathan stripped himself of the robe
that wds upon him, and gave it to David, and his garments, even
to his sword, and to his bow, and to his girdle."
I Sam. ch. xvii. 55
With regard to the exchange of names, a slightly different custom
prevails among the Bengali coolies. Two youths, or two girls,
will exchange two flowers (of the same kind) with each other,
in token of perpetual alliance. After that, one speaks of the
other as " my flower," but never alludes to the other
by name again-only by some roundabout phrase.
HERMAN MELVILLE, who voyaged among the Pacific Islands in 1841-1845,
gives some interesting and reliable accounts of Polynesian
customs of that period. He says:
" The really curious way in which all the Polynesians are
in the habit of making bosom friends at the shortest possible
notice is deserving of remark. Although, among a people like the
Tahitians, vitiated as they are by sophisticating influences,
this custom has in most cases degenerated into a mere mercenary
relation, it nevertheless had its origin in a fine, and in some
instances heroic, sentiment formerly entertained by their fathers.
" In the annals of the island (Tahiti) are examples of extravagant
friendships, unsurpassed by the story of Damon and Pythias, in
truth, much more wonderful; for notwithstanding the devotion-even
of life in some cases-to which they led, they were frequently
entertained at first sight for some stranger from another island."
Omoo, Herman Melville, ch. 39, p. 154.
"Though little inclined to jealousy in (ordinary) love-matters,
the Tahitian will hear of no rivals in his friendship."
Ibid, ch. 40.
Melville spent some months on one of the Marquesas Islands,
in a valley occupied by a tribe called Typees; one day there turned
up a stranger belonging to a hostile tribe who occupied another
part of the island:
" The stranger could not have been more than twenty-five
years of age, and was a little above the ordinary height; had
he been a single hair's breadth taller, the matchless symmetry
of his form would have been destroyed. His unclad limbs were beautifully
formed; whilst the elegant outline of his figure, together with
his beardless cheeks, might have entitled him to the distinction
of standing for the statue of the Polynesian Apollo; and indeed
the oval of his countenance and the regularity of every feature
reminded me of an antique bust. But the marble repose of art was
supplied by a warmth and liveliness of  expression only to
be seen in the South Sea Islander under the most favorable developments
. . . When I expressed my surprise (at his venturing among the
Typees) he looked at me for a moment as if enjoying my perplexity,
and then with his strange vivacity exclaimed-' Ah ! me taboo-me
go Nukuheva-me go Tior-me go Typee-me go everywhere-nobody harm
me, me taboo.'
" This explanation would have been altogether unintelligible
to me, had it not recalled to my mind something I had previously
heard concerning a singular custom among these islanders. Though
the country is possessed by various tribes, whose mutual hostilities
almost wholly preclude any intercourse between them; yet there
are instances where a person having ratified friendly relations
with some individual belonging to the valley, whose inmates are
at war with his own, may under particular restrictions venture
with impunity into the country of his friend, where under other
circumstances he would have been treated as an enemy. In this
light are personal friendships regarded among them, and the individual
so protected is said to be ' taboo,' and his person to a certain
extent is held as sacred. Thus the stranger informed me he had
access to all the valleys in the island."
Typee, Herman Melville, ch. xviii.
 IN almost all primitive nations, warfare has given rise to
institutions of military comradeship-including, for instance,
institutions of instruction for young warriors, of personal devotion
to their leaders, or of personal attachment to each other. In
Greece these customs were specially defined, as later quotations
Tacitus, speaking of the arrangement among the Germans by which each military chief was surrounded by younger companions
in arms, says:
" There is great emulation among the companions, which shall
possess the highest place in the favor of their chief; and among
the chiefs, which shall excel in the number and valor of his companions.
It is their dignity, their strength, to be always surrounded with
a large body of select youth, an ornament in peace, a bulwark
. . In the field of battle, it is disgraceful for the chief to
be surpassed in valor; it is disgraceful for the companions not
to equal their chief; but it is reproach and infamy durlng the
whole succeeding life to retreat from the field surviving him.
To aid, to protect him; to place their own gallant actions to
the account of his glory is their first and most sacred engagement."
Tacitus, Germania, 13, 14, Bohn Serses.
 AMONG the Arab tribes very much the same thing may
be found, every Sheikh having his bodyguard of young men, whom
he instructs and educates, while they render to him their military
and personal devotion. In the late expedition of the British to
Khartoum (Nov., 1899), when Colonel Wingate and his troops mowed
down the Khalifa and his followers with their Maxims, the death
of the Khalifa was thus described by a correspondent of the daily
"In the centre of what was evidently the main attack on our
right we came across a very large number of bodies all huddled
together in a very small place; their horses lay dead behind them,
the Khalifa lay dead on his furma, or sheepskin, the typical end
of the Arab Sheikh who disdains surrender; on his right was the
Khalifa Aly Wad Hila, and on his left Ahmed Fedil, his great fighting
leader, whilst all around him lay his faithful emirs, all content
to meet their death when he had chosen to meet his. His black
Mulamirin, or bodyguard, all lay dead in a straight line about
40 yards in front of their master's body, with their faces to
the foe and faithful to the last. It was truly a touching sight,
and one could not help but feel that ... their end was truly grand....Amongst
the dead were found two men tied together by the arms, who had
charged towards the guns and had got nearer than any others. On
 inquiring of the prisoners Colonel Wingate was told these
two were great friends, and on seeing the Egyptian guns come up
had tied themselves by the arms with a cord, swearing to reach
the guns or die together."
Compare also the following quotation from Ammianus Marcellinus
(xvi. 13), who says that when Chonodomarus, " King of the
Alamanni," was taken prisoner by the Romans,
" His companions, two hundred in number, and three friends
peculiarly attached to him, thinking it infamous to survive their
prince, or not to die for him, surrendered themselves to be put
The following passage from Livingstone shows the existence among
the African tribes of his time of a system, which Wood
rightly says " has a singular resemblance to the instruction
of pages in the days of chivalry ":
" Monina (one of the confederate chiefs of the Banyai) had
a great number of young men about him, from twelve to fifteen
years of age. These were all sons of free men, and bands of young
lads like them in the different districts leave their parents
about the age of puberty and live with such men as Monina for
the sake of instruction. When I asked the nature of the instruction
I was  told ' Bonyai,' which I suppose may be understood as
indicating manhood, for it sounds as if we should say, ' to teach
an American Americanism,' or, ' an Englishman to be English.'
While here they are kept in subjection to rather stringent regulations....
They remain unmarried until a fresh set of youths is ready to
occupy their place under the same instruction."
Missionary Travels and Researches in South Africa. By David
Livingstone, 1857, p. 618.
M. Foley ( Bulln. Soc. d'Anthr. de Paris, 1879) speaks of fraternity
in arms among the natives of New Caledonia as forming a close
tie- closer even than consanguinity.
WITH regard to Greece, J. Addington Symonds has some interesting
remarks, which are well worthy of consideration; he says:
" Nearly all the historians of Greece have failed to insist
upon the fact that fraternity in arms played for the Greek race
the same part as the idealization of women for the knighthood
of feudal Europe. Greek mythology and history are full of tales
of friendship, which can only be paralleled by the story of David
and Jonathan in the Bible. The legends of Herakles and Hylas,
of Theseus and Peirithous, of Apollo and Hyacinth, of Orestes
and Pylades, occur immediately to the mind. Among the noblest
patriots, tyrannicides, lawgivers, and self-devoted heroes in
the early times of Greece, we always find the names of friends
and comrades received with peculiar honor Harmodius and Aristogeiton,
who slew the despot Hipparchus at Athens; Diocles and Philolaus,
who gave laws to Thebes; Chariton and Melanippus, who resisted
the sway of Phalaris in Sicily; Cratinus and Aristodemus, who
devoted their lives to propitiate offended deities when a plague
had fallen on Athens; these comrades, staunch to each other in
their love, and elevated by friendship to the pitch of noblest
enthusiasm, were among the favorite saints of Greek legend and
history. In a word, the chivalry of Hellas found its motive force
in friendship rather than in the love of women; and the motive
force of all chivalry is a generous, soul-exalting, unselfish
passion. The fruit which friendship bore among the Greeks was
courage in the face of danger, indifference to life when honor
was at stake, patriotic ardor, the love of liberty, and lion-hearted
rivalry in battle. Tyrants,' said Plato, ' stand in awe of friends."'
Studies of the Greek Poets. By J. S. Symonds, Vol. I, p.
 THE customs connected with this fraternity in arms, in Sparta and in Crete, are described with care and at considerable
length in the following extract from Muller's History and Antiquities
of the Doric Race, book iv., ch. 4, par. 6:
" At Sparta the party loving was called eispnelas and
his affection was termed a breathing in, or inspiring (eispnein); which expresses the pure and mental connection
between the two persons, and corresponds with the name of the
other, viz.: aitas i.e., listener or hearer. Now it appears
to have been the practice for every youth of good character to
have his lover; and on the other hand every well-educated man
was bound by custom to be the lover of some youth. Instances of
this connection are furnished by several of the royal family of
Sparta; thus, Agesilaus, while he still belonged to the herd (agele)
of youths, was the hearer (aitas) of Lysander, and himself
had in his turn also a hearer; his son Archidamus was the lover
of the son of Sphodrias, the noble Cleonymus; Cleomenes III was
when a young man the hearer of Xenares, and later in life the
lover of the brave Panteus. The connection usually originated
from the proposal of the lover; yet it was necessary that the
listener should accept him with real affection, as a regard to
the riches of the proposer was consid ered very disgraceful; sometimes,
however, it  happened that the proposal originated from the
other party. The connection appears to have been very intimate
and faithful; and was recognized by the State. If his relations
were absent. the youth might be represented in the public assembly
by his lover; in battle too they stood near one another, where
their fidelity and affection were often shown till death; while
at home the youth was constantly under the eyes of his lover,
who was to him as it were a model and pattern of life; which explains
why, for many faults, particularly want of ambition, the lover
could be punished instead of the listener."
"This ancient national custom prevailed with still greater
force in Crete; which island was hence by many persons considered
as the original seat of the connection in question. Here too it
was disgraceful for a well-educated youth to be without a lover;
and hence the party loved was termed Kleinos, the praised;
the lover being simply called philotor. It appears that
the youth was always carried away by force, the intention of the
ravisher being previously communicated to the relations, who,
however, took no measures of precaution and only made a feigned
resistance; except when the ravisher appeared, either in family
or talent, unworthy of the youth. The lover then led him away
to his apartment (andreion), and afterwards, with any chance
companions, either to the mountains or to his estate. Here they
remained two months (the period prescribed by custom), which 
were passed chiefiy in hunting together. After this time had expired,
the lover dismissed the youth, and at his departure gave him,
according to custom, an ox, a military dress, and brazen cup,
with other things; and frequently these gifts were increased by
the friends of the ravisher. The youth then sacrificed the ox
to Jupiter, with which he gave a feast to his companions: and
now he stated how he had been pleased with his lover; and he had
complete liberty by law to punish any insult or disgraceful treatment.
It depended now on the choice of the youth whether the connection
should be broken off or not. If it was kept up, the companion
in arms (parastates), as the youth was then called, wore
the military dress which had been given him, and fought in battle
next his lover, inspired with double valor by the gods of war
and love, according to the notions of the Cretans; and even in
man's age he was distinguished by the first place and rank in
the course, and certain insignia worn about the body.
" Institutions, so systematic and regular as these, did not
exist in any Doric State except Crete and Sparta; but the feelings
on which they were founded seem to have been common to all the
Dorians. The loves of Philolaus, a Corinthian of the family of
the Bacchiadae, and the lawgiver of Thebes, and of Diocles the
Olympic conqueror, lasted until death; and even their graves were
turned towards one another in token of their affection; and another
person of the same name was  honored in Megara, as a noble
instance of self-devotion for the object of his love."
For an account of Philolaus and Diocles, Aristotle (Pol.
ii. 9) may be referred to. The second Diocles was an Athenian
who died in battle for the youth he loved.
" His tomb was honored with the enagismata of heroes,
and a yearly contest for skill in kissing formed part of his memorial
J. A Symonds" A Problem in Greek Ethies, privately
printed, 1883; see also Theocritus, Idyll xii. infra.
HAHN, in his Albanesische Studien, says that the Dorian
customs of comradeship still flourish in Albania "
just as described by the ancients," and are closely entwined
with the whole life of the people-though he says nothing of any
military signification. It appears to be a quite recognized institution
for a young man to take to himself a youth or boy as his special
comrade. He instructs, and when necessary reproves, the younger;
protects him, and makes him presents of various kinds. The relation
generally, though not always ends with the marriage of the elder.
The following is reported by Hahn as in the actual words of his
informant (an Albanian):
 "Love of this kind is occasioned by the sight of a beautiful
youth; who thus kindles in the lover a feeling of wonder and causes
his heart to open to the sweet sense which springs from the contemplation
of beauty. By degrees love steals in and takes possession of the
lover, and to such a degree that all his thoughts and feelings
are absorbed in it. When near the beloved he loses himself in
the sight of him; when absent he thinks of him only." These
loves, he continued, " are with a few exceptions as pure
as sunshine, and the highest and noblest affections that the human
heart can entertain."
Hahn, vol. I, p. 166.
Hahn also mentions that troops of youths, like the Cretan and
Spartan agelae, are formed in Albania, of twenty-five or thirty
members each. The comradeship usually begins during adolescence,
each member paying a fixed sum into a common fund, and the interest
being spent on two or three annual feasts, generally held out
THE Sacred Band of Thebes, or Theban Band, was a battalion
composed entirely of friends and lovers; and forms a remarkable
example of military comradeship. The references to it in later
Greek literature are very numerous, and there seems no reason
to doubt the general truth of the traditions concerning its formation
and its complete annihilation by Philip of Macedon at the
battle of Chaeronea (B.C. 338). Thebes was the last stronghold
of Hellenic independence, and with the Theban Band Greek freedom
perished. But the mere existence of this phalanx, and the fact
of its renown, show to what an extent comradeship was recognized
and prized as an institution among these peoples. The following
account is taken from Plutarch's Life of Pelopidas, Clough's translation:
" Gorgidas, according to some, first formed the Sacred Band
of 300 chosen men, to whom as being a guard for the citadel the
State allowed provision, and all things necessary for exercise;
and hence they were called the city band, as citadels of old were
usually called cities. Others say that it was composed of young
men attached to each other by personal affection, and a pleasant
saying of Pammenes is current, that Homer's Nestor was not well
skilled in ordering an army, when he advised the Greeks to rank
tribe and tribe, and family and family, together, that so 'tribe
might tribe, and kinsmen kinsmen aid,' but that he should have
joined lovers and their beloved. For men of the same tribe or
family little value one another when dangers press; but a band
cemented together by friendship grounded upon love is never to
be broken, and invincible: since  the lovers, ashamed to be
base in sight of their beloved, and the beloved before their lovers,
willingly rush into danger for the relief of one another. Nor
can that be wondered at since they have more regard for their
absent lovers than for others present; as in the instance of the
man who, when his enemy was going to kill him, earnestly requested
him to run him through the breast, that his lover might not blush
to see him wounded in the back. It is a tradition likewise that
Ioläus, who assisted Hercules in his labors and fought at
his side, was beloved of him; and Aristotle observes that even
in his time lovers plighted their faith at Ioläus' tomb.
It is likely, therefore, that this band was called sacred on this
account; as Plato calls a lover a divine friend. It is stated
that it was never beaten till the battle at Chaeronea; and when
Philip after the fight took a view of the slain, and came to the
place where the three hundred that fought his phalanx lay dead
together, he wondered, and understanding that it was the band
of lovers, he shed tears and said, ' Perish any man who suspects
that these men either did or suffered anything that was base.'
" It was not the disaster of Laius, as the poets imagine,
that first gave rise to this form of attachment among the Thebans,
but their law-givers, designing to soften whilst they were young
their natural fickleness, brought for example the pipe into great
esteem, both in serious and sportive  occasions, and gave
great encouragement to these friendships in the Palaestra, to
temper the manner and character of the youth. With a view to this,
they did well again to make Harmony, the daughter of Mars and
Venus, their tutelar deity; since where force and courage is joined
with gracefulness and winning behavior, a harmony ensues that
combines all the elements of society in perfect consonance and
" Gorgidas distributed this sacred Band all through the front
ranks of the infantry, and thus made their gallantry less conspicuous;
not being united in one body, but mingled with many others of
inferior resolution, they had no fair opportunity of showing what
they could do. But Pelopidas, having sufficiently tried their
bravery at Tegyrae, where they had fought alone, and around his
own person, never afterwards divided them, but keeping them entire,
and as one man, gave them the first duty in the greatest battles.
For as horses run brisker in a chariot than single, not that their
joint force divides the air with greater ease, but because being
matched one against another circulation kindles and enflames their
courage; thus, he thought, brave men, provoking one another to
noble actions, would prove most serviceable and most resolute
where all were united together."
 STORIES of romantic friendship form a staple subject of Greek
literature, and were everywhere accepted and prized. The following
quotations from Athenaeus and Plutarch contain allusions to the
Theban Band, and other examples:
" And the Lacedaemonians offer sacrifices to Love before
they go to battle, thinking that safety and victory depend on
the friendship of those who stand side by side in the battle array....
And the regiment among the Thebans, which is called the Sacred
Band, is wholly composed of mutual lovers, indicating the majesty
of the God, as these men prefer a glorious death to a shameful
and discreditable life."
Athenaeus, bk. xiii., ch. 12.
Ioläus, above-mentioned, is said to have been the charioteer
of Hercules, and his faithful companion. As the comrade of Hercules
he was worshipped beside him in Thebes, where the gymnasium was
named after him. Plutarch alludes to this friendship again in
his treatise on Love (Eroticus, par. 17)
" And as to the loves of Hercules, it is difficult to record
them because of their number; but those who think that Ioläus
was one of them do to this day worship and honor him, and make
their loved ones swear fidelity at his tomb."
And in the same treatise:
" Consider also how love (Eros) excels in warlike feats,
and is by no means idle, as Euripides called him, nor a carpet
knight, nor ' sleeping on soft maidens' cheeks.' For a man inspired
by Love needs not Ares to help him when he goes out as a warrior
against the enemy, but at the bidding of his own god is ' ready
' for his friend ' to go through fire and water and whirlwinds.'
And in Sophocles' play, when the sons of Niobe are being shot
at and dying, one of them calls out for no helper or assister
but his lover.
" And you know of course how it was that Cleomachus, the
Pharsalian, fell in battle.... When the war between the Eretrians
and Chalcidians was at its height, Cleomachus had come to aid
the latter with a Thessalian force; and the Chalcidian infantry
seemed strong enough, but they had great difficulty in repelling
the enemy's cavalry. So they begged that high-souled hero, Cleomachus,
to charge the Eretrian cavalry first. And he asked the youth he
loved, who was by, if he would be a spectator of the fight, and
he saying he would, and affectionately kissing him and putting
his helmet on his head, Cleomachus, wlth a proud joy, put himself
at the head of the bravest of the Thessalians, and charged the
enemy's cavalry with such impetuosity that he threw them into
disorder and routed them; and the Eretrian infantry also fleeing
in consequence, the Chalcidians won a splendid  victory. However,
Cleomachus got killed, and they show his tomb in the market place
at Chalcis, over which a huge pillar stands to this day."
Eroticus, par. 17, trans. Bohn's Classics.
And further on in the same:
" And among you Thebans, Pemptides, is it not usual for the
lover to give his boylove a complete suit of armor when he is
enrolled among the men ? And did not the erotic Pammenes change
the disposition of the heavy-armed infantry, censuring Homer as
knowing nothing about love, because he drew up the Achaeans in
order of battle in tribes and clans, and did not put lover and
love together, that so ' spear should be next to spear and helmet
to helmet' (lliad, xiii. 131), seeing that love is the only invincible
general. For men in battle will leave in the lurch clansmen and
friends, aye, and parents and sons, but what warrior ever broke
through or charged through lover and love, seeing that when there
is no necessity lovers frequently display their bravery and contempt
THE following is from the Deipnosophists of Athenaus (bk.
xiii., ch. 78):-
" But Hieronymus the peripatetic says that the loves of youths
used to be much encouraged, for this reason, that the vigor of
the young and their close agreement in comradeship have led to
the overthrow of many a tyranny. For in the  presence of his
favorite a lover would rather endure anything than earn the name
of coward; a thing which was proved in practice by the Sacred
Band, established at Thebes under Epaminondas; as well as by the
death of the Pisistratid, which was brought about by Harmodius
"And at Agrigentum in Sicily the same was shown by the mutual
love of Chariton and Melanippus-of whom Melanippus was the younger
beloved, as Heraclides of Pontus tells in his Treatise on Love.
For these two having been accused of plotting against Phalaris,
and being put to torture in order to force them to betray their
accomplices, not only did not tell, but even compelled Phalaris
to such pity of their tortures that he released them with many
words of praise. Whereupon Apollo, pleased at his conduct, granted
to Phalaris a respite from death; and declared the same to the
men who inquired of the Pythian priestess how they might best
attack him. He also gave an oracular saying concerning Chariton.
' Blessed indeed was Chariton and Melanippus, Pioneers of Godhead,
and of mortals the one most beloved (*)"'
*This curious oracle seems purposely to confuse the singular
Epaminondas, the great Theban general and statesman, so
we are told by the same author, had  for his young comrades
Asopichus and Cephisodorus, " the latter of whom fell with
him at Mantineia, and is buried near him."
THESE are mainly instances of what might be called "military
comradeship," but as may be supposed, friendship in the early
world did not rest on this alone. With the growth of culture other
interests came in; and among the Greeks especially association
in the pursuit of art or politics or philosophy became a common
ground. Parmenides, the philosopher, whose life was held
peculiarly holy, loved his pupil Zeno (see Plato Parm,
" Parmenides and Zeno came to Athens, he said, at the great
Panathenaean festival; the former was, at the time of his visit,
about 65 years old, very white with age, but well-favored. Zeno
was nearly 40 years of age, of a noble figure and fair aspect;
and in the days of his youth he was reported to have been beloved
Pheidias, the sculptor, loved Pantarkes, a youth of Elis,
and carved his portrait at the foot of the Olympian Zeus (Pausanias
v. II)~ and politicians and orators like Demosthenes and Aischines
were proud to avow their attachment. It was in a  house of
ill-fame, according to Diogenes Laertius (ii. 105) that Socrates
first met Phaedo:
" This unfortunate youth was a native of Elis. Taken prisoner
in war, he was sold in the public market to a slave dealer, who
then acquired the right by Attic law to engross his earnings for
his own pocket. A friend of Socrates, perhaps Cebes, bought him
from hls master, and he became one of the chief members of the
Socratic circle. His name is given to the Platonic dialogue on
immortality, and he lived to found what is called the Eleo-Socratic
School. No reader of Plato forgets how the sage on the eve of
his death stroked the beautiful long hair of Phaedo, and prophesied
that he would soon have to cut it short in mourning for his teacher."
J. A. Symonds, A Problem in Greek Ethics, p. 58.
The relation of friendship to the pursuit of philosophy is a favourite
subject with Plato, and is illustrated by some later quotations
(see infra ch. 2).
I CONCLUDE the present section by the insertion of three stories
taken from classical sources. Though of a legendary character,
it is probable that they enshrine some memory or tradition of
actual facts. The story of Harmodius  and Aristogeiton at
any rate is treated by Herodotus and Thucydides as a matter of
serious history. The names of these two friends were ever on the
lips of the Athenians as the founders of the city's freedom, and
to be born of their blood was esteemed among the highest of honors.
But whether historical or not, these stories have much he same
value for us, in so far as they indicate he ideals on which the
Greek mind dwelt, and which it considered possible of realization.
Harmodius and Aristogeiton
" Now the attempt of Aristogeiton and Harmodius arose out
of a love affair, which I will narrate at length; and the narrative
will show that he Athenians themselves give quite an inaccurate
account of their own tyrants, and of the incident in question,
and know no more than other Hellenes. Pisistratus died at an advanced
age in possession of the tyranny, and then, not as is the common
opinion Hipparchus, but Hippias (who was the eldest of his sons)
succeeded to his power.
" Harmodius was in the flower of his youth, and Aristogeiton,
a citizen of the middle class, became his lover. Hipparchus made
an attempt to gain the affections of Harmodius, but he would not
listen to him, and told Aristogeiton. The latter was naturally
tormented at the idea, and fearing that Hipparchus, who was powerful,
would resort to violence, at once formed such a plot as a man
in his station might for the overthrow of the  tyranny. Meanwhile
Hipparchus made another attempt; he had no better success, and
thereupon he determined, not indeed to take any violent step,
but to insult Harmodius in some underhand manner, so that his
motive could not be suspected. [Digression in praise of the
political administration of the Pisistratids.].
" When Hipparchus found his advances repelled by Harmodius
he carried out his intention of insultmg him. There was a young
sister of his whom Hipparchus and his friends first invited to
come and carry a sacred basket in a procession, and then rejected
her, declaring that she had never been invited by them at all
because she was unworthy. At this Harmodius was very angry, and
Aristogeiton for his sake more angry still. They and the other
conspirators had already laid their preparations, but were waiting
for the festival of the great Panathenasa, when the citizens who
took part in the procession assembled in arms; for to wear arms
on any other day would have aroused suspicion. Harmodius and Aristogeiton
were to begin the attack, and the rest were immediately to join
in, and engage with the guards. The plot had been communicated
to a few only, the better to avoid detection; but they hoped that,
however few struck the blow, the crowd who would be armed, although
not in the secret, would at once rise and assist in the recovery
of their own liberties.
" The day of the festival arrived, and Hippias went out of
the city to the place called the  Ceramicus, where he was
occupied with his guards in marshalling the procession. Harmodius
and Aristogeiton, who were ready with their daggers, stepped forward
to do the deed. But seeing one of ,he conspirators in familiar
conversation with Hippias, who was readily accessible to all,
they took alarm and imagined that they had been betrayed, and
were on the point of being seized. Whereupon they determined to
take their revenge first on the man who had outraged them and
was the cause of their desperate attempt. So they rushed, just
as they were, within the gates. They found Hipparchus near the
Leocorium, as it was called, and then and there falling upon him
with all the blind fury, one of an injured lover, the other of
a man smarting under an insult, they smote and slew him. The crowd
ran together, and so Aristogeiton for the present escaped the
guards; but he was afterwards taken, and not very gently handled
( i.e., tortured ) . Harmodius perished on the spot."
Thuc: vi. 54-56, trans. by B. Fowett.
Orestes and Pylades
" Phocis preserves from early times the memory of the union
between Orestes and Pylades, who taking a god as witness of the
passion between them, sailed through life together as though in
one boat. Both together put to death Klytemnestra, as though both
were sons of Agamemnon; and Egisthus was slain by both. Pylades
suffered more than his friend by the punishment which pursued
Orestes. He stood by him when condemned, nor did they limit their
tender friendship by the  bounds of Greece, but sailed to
the furthest boundaries of the Scythians-the one sick, the other
ministering to him. When they had come into the Tauric land straightway
they were met by the matricidal fury; and while the barbarians
were standing round In a circle Orestes fell down and lay on the
ground, seized by his usual mania, while Pylades 'wiped away the
foam, tended his body, and covered him with his well-woven cloak
'-acting not only like a lover but like a father.
" When it was determined that one should remain to be put
to death, and the other should go to Mycenae to convey a letter,
each wishes to remain for the sake of the other, thinking that
if he saves the life of his friend he saves his own life. Orestes
refused to take the letter, saying that Pylades was more worthy
to carry it, acting more like the lover than the beloved. ' For,'
he said, ' the slaying of this man would be a great grief to me,
as I am the cause of these misfortunes.' And he added, ' Give
the tablet to him, for (turning to Pylades) I will send thee to
Argos, in order that it may be well with thee; as for me, let
any one kill me who desires it.'
" Such love is always like that; for when from boyhood a
serious love has grown up and it becomes adult at the age of reason,
the long-loved object returns reciprocal affection, and it is
hard to determine which is the lover of which, for - as from a
mirrr0r-the affertion of the lrover is  reflected from the
Trans. from Lucian's Amores, by W. J. Baylis.
Damon and Pythias
" Damon and Phintias, initiates in the Pythagorean mysteries,
contracted so faithful a friendship towards each other, that when
Dionysius of Syracuse intended to execute one of them, and he
had obtained permission from the tyrant to return home and arrange
his affairs before his death, the other did not hesitate to give
himself up as a pledge of his friend's return.[For the two
men lived together, and had their possessions in common., Iamblichus.
de Vita Pythgore, bk. i. ch. 33] He whose neck had been in danger
was now free; and he who might have lived in safety was now in
danger of death. So everybody, and especially Dionysius, were
wondering what would be the upshot of this novel and dubious affair.
At last, when the day fixed was close at hand, and he had not
returned, every one condemned the one who stood security, for
his stupidity and rashness. But he insisted that he had nothing
to fear in the matter of his friend's constancy. And indeed at
the same moment and the hour fixed by Dionysius, he who had received
leave, returned. The tyrant, admiring the courage of both, remitted
the sentence which had so tried their loyalty, and asked them
besides to receive him in the bonds of their friendship, saying
that he would make his third place in their affection agreeable
by his utmost goodwill and effort. Such indeed are the powers
of friendship: to breed contempt of death, to overcome the sweet
 desire of life, to humanize cruelty, to turn hate into love,
to compensate punishment by largess; to which powers almost as
much veneration is due as to the cult of the immortal gods. For
if with these rests the public safety, on those does private happiness
deDend; and as the temples are the sacred domiciles of these,
so of those are the loyal hearts of men as it were the shrines
consecrated by some holy spirit."
Valerius Maximus, bk. iv. ch. 7. De Amicitiae Vinculo.
II THE PLACE OF FRIENDSHIP IN GREEK
LIFE AND THOUGHT
 THE extent to which the idea of friendship (in a quite romantic
sense) penetrated the Greek mind is a thing very difficult for
us to realize; and some modern critics entirely miss this point.
They laud the Greek culture to the skies, extolling the warlike
bravery of the people, their enthusiastic political and social
sentiment, their wonderful artistic sense, and so forth; and at
the same time speak of the stress they laid on friendship as a
little peculiarity of no particular importance-not seeing that
the latter was the chief source of their bravery and independence,
one of the main motives of their art, and so far an organic part
of their whole polity that it is difficult to imagine the one
without the other. The Greeks themselves never made this mistake;
and their literature abounds with references to the romantic attachment
as the great inspiration of political and individual life. Plato,
himself, may almost be said to have founded his philosophy on
Nothing is more surprising to the modern than  to find Plato
speaking, page after page, of Love, as the safeguard of states
and the tutoress of philosophy, and then to discover that what
we call love, i.e., the love between man and woman, is not meant
at all-scarcely comes within his consideration-but only the love
between men what we should call romantic friendship. His ideal
of this latter love is ascetic; it is an absorbing passion, but
it is held in strong control. The other love-the love of women-is
for him a mere sensuality. In this, to some extent, lies the explanation
of his philosophical position.
But it is evident that in this fact-in the fact that among the
Greeks the love of women was considered for the most part sensual,
while the romance of love went to the account of friendship, we
have the strength and the weakness of the Greek civilization.
Strength, because by the recognition everywhere of romantic comradeship,
public and private life was filled by a kind of divine fire; weakness,
because by the non-recognition of woman's equal part in such comradeship,
her saving, healing, and redeeming influence was lost, and the
Greek culture doomed to be to that extent one-sided. It will,
we may hope, be the great triumph of the modern love (when it
becomes more  of a true comradeship between man and woman
than it yet is) to give both to society and to the individual
the grandest inspirations, and perhaps in conjunction with the
other attachment, to lift the modern nations to a higher level
of political and artistic advancement than even the Greeks attained.
BISHOP THIRLWALL, that excellent thinker and scholar, in his History
of Greece (vol. I, p. 176) says:
" One of the noblest and most amiable sides of the Greek
character is the readiness with which it lent itself to construct
intimate and durable friendships; and this is a feature no less
prominent in the earliest than in the latest times. It was indeed
connected with the comparatively low estimation in which female
society was held; but the devotedness and constancy with which
these attachments were maintained was not the less admirable and
engaging. The heroic companions whom we find celebrated, partly
by Homer and partly in traditions, which if not of equal antiquity
were grounded on the same feeling, seem to have but one heart
and soul, with scarcely a wish or object apart, and only to live,
as they are always ready to die, for one another. It is true that
the relation between them is not always one of perfect equality:
but this is a circumstance which, while it  often adds a peculiar
charm to the poetical description, detracts little from the dignity
of the idea which it presents. Such were the friendships of Hercules
and Ioläus, of Theseus and Pirithöus, of Orestes and
Pylades: and though these may owe the greater part of their fame
to the later epic or even dramatic poetry, the moral groundwork
undoubtedly subsisted in the period to which the tradition referred.
The argument of the Iliad mainly turns on the affection of Achilles
for Patroclus-whose love for the greater hero is only tempered
by reverence for his higher birth and his unequalled prowess.
But the mutual regard which united Idomeneus and Meriones, Diomedes
and Sthenelus - though, as the persons themselves are less important,
it is kept more in the background - is manifestly viewed by the
poet in the same light. The idea of a Greek hero seems not to
have been thought complete, without such a brother in arms by
The following is from Ludwig Frey (Der Eros und die Kunst,
p. 33 ):-
" Let it then be repeated: love for a youth was for the Greeks
something sacred, and can only be compared with our German homage
to womensay the chivalric love of mediaeval times."
 GLOWES DICKINSON, in his Greek View of Life, noting
the absence of romance in the relations between men and women
of that civilization, says:
"Nevertheless, it would be a mistake to conclude, from these
conditions, that the element of romance was absent from Greek
life. The fact is simply that with them it took a different form,
that of passionate friendship between men. Such friendships, of
course, occur in all nations and at all times, but among the Greeks
they were, we might say, an institution. Their ideal was the development
and education of the younger by the older man, and in this view
they were recognized and approved by custom and law as an important
factor in the state."
Greek View of Life, p. 167.
" So much indeed were the Greeks impressed with the manliness
of this passion, with its power to prompt to high thought and
heroic action, that some of the best of them set the love of man
for man far above that of man for woman. The one, they maintained,
was primarily of the spirit, the other primarily of the flesh;
the one bent upon shaping to the type of all manly excellence
both the body and the soul of the beloved, the other upon a passing
pleasure of the senses."
The following are some remarks of J. A. Symonds on the same subject:-
 "Partly owing to the social habits of their cities,
and partly to the peculiar notions which they entertained regarding
the seclusion of free women in the home, all the higher elements
of spiritual and mental activity, and the conditions under which
a generous passion was conceivable, had become the exclusive privileges
of men. It was not that women occupied a semi-servile station,
as some students have imagined, or that within the sphere of the
household they were not the respected and trusted helpmates of
men. But circumstances rendered it impossible for them to excite
romantic and enthusiastic passion. The exaltation of the emotions
was reserved for the male sex."
A Problem in Greek Ethics, p. 68.
And he continues:
"Socrates therefore sought to direct and moralize a force
already existing. In the Phaedrus he describes the passion
of love between man and boy as a ' mania,' not different in quality
from that which inspires poets; and after painting that fervid
picture of the lover, he declares that the true object of a noble
life can onlv be attained by passionate friends, bound together
in the chains of close yet temperate comradeship, seeking always
to advance in knowledge, self-restraint, and intellectual illumination.
The doctrine of the Symposium is not different, except
that Socrates here takes a higher flight. The same love is treated
as the method whereby the soul may begin her mystic  journey
to the region of essential beauty, truth, and goodness. It has
frequently been remarked that Plato's dialogues have to be read
as poems even more than as philosophical treatises; and if this
be true at all, it is particularly true of both the Phaedrus and the Symposium. The lesson which both essays seem intended
to inculcate, is this: love, like poetry and prophecy, is a divine
gift, which diverts men from the common current of their lives;
but in the right use of this gift lies the secret of all human
excellence. The passion which grovels in the filth of sensual
grossness may be transformed into a glorious enthusiasm, a winged
splendor, capable of soaring to the contemplation of eternal verities."
IN the Symposium or Banquet of Plato (B.C. 428-B.C.
347), a supper party is supposed, at which a discussion on love
and friendship takes place. The friends present speak in turn-the
enthusiastic Phaedrus, the clear-headed Pausanias, the grave doctor
Eryximachus, the comic and acute Aristophanes, the young poet
Agathon; Socrates, tantalizing, suggestive, and quoting the profound
sayings of the prophetess Diotima; and Alcibiades, drunk, and
quite ready to drink more;-each in his turn, out of the fulness
of his heart, speaks; and thus in this most dramatic dialogue
we have love discussed from every point of view. and with 
insight, acumen, romance and humor unrivalled.
Phaedrus and Pausanias, in the two following quotations, take
the line which perhaps most thoroughly represents the public opinion
of the day as to the value of friendship in nurturing a spirit
of honor and freedom, especially in matters military and political:
Speech of Phaedrus
"Thus numerous are the witnesses who acknowledge love to
be the eldest of the gods. And not only is he the eldest, he is
also the source of the greatest benefits to us. For I know not
any greater blessing to a young man beginning life than a virtuous
lover, or to the lover than a beloved youth. For the principle
which ought to be the guide of men who would nobly live-that principle,
I say, neither kindred, nor honor, nor wealth, nor any other motive
is able to implant so well as love. Of what am I speaking? of
the sense of honor and dishonor, without which neither states
nor individuals ever do any good or great work. And I say that
a lover who is detected in doing any dishonorable act, or submitting
through cowardice when any dishonor is done to him bv another,
will be more pained at being detected by his beloved than at being
seen by his father, or by his companions, or by any one else.
The beloved, too, when he is seen in any disgraceful situation,
has the same feeling about his lover. And if there were only some
way of contriving that a  state or an army should be made
up of lovers and their loves, they would be the very best governors
of their own city, abstaining from all dishonor, and emulating
one another in honor; and when fighting at one another's side,
although a mere handful, they would overcome the world. For what
lover would not choose rather to be seen by all mankind than by
his beloved, either when abandoning his post or throwing away
his arms? He would be ready to die a thousand deaths rather than
endure this. Or who would desert his beloved, or fail him in the
hour of danger? The veriest coward would become an inspired hero,
equal to the bravest, at such a time- love would inspire him.
That courage which, as Homer says, the god breathes into the soul
of heroes, love of his own nature infuses into the lover."
Symposium of Plato, trans. B. Fowett.
Speech of Pausanais
" In Ionia and other places, and generally in countries which
are subject to the barbarians, the custom is held to be dishonorable;
loves of youths share the evil repute of philosophy and gymnastics,
because they are inimical to tyranny; for the interests of rulers
require that their subjects should be poor in spirit, and that
there should be no strong bond of friendship or society among
them, which love above all other motives is likely to inspire,
as our Athenian tyrants learned by experience."
 ARISTOPHANES goes more deeply into the nature of this love
of which they are speaking. He says it is a profound reality-a
deep and intimate union, abiding after death, and making of the
lovers "one departed soul instead of two." But in order
to explain his allusion to " the other half " it must
be premised that in the earlier part of his speech he has in a
serio-comic vein pretended that human beings were originally constructed
double, with four legs, four arms, etc.; but that as a punishment
for their sins Zeus divided them perpendicularly, " as folk
cut eggs before they salt them," the males into two parts,
the females into two, and the hermaphrodites likewise into two-since
when, these divided people have ever pursued their lost halves,
and " thrown their arms around and embraced each other, seeking
to grow together again." And so, speaking of those who were
originally males, he says:
Speech of Aristophanes
" And these when they grow up are our statesmen, and these
only, which is a great proof of the truth of what I am saying.
And when they reach manhood they are lovers of youth, and are
not naturally inclined to marry or beget children, which they
do, if at all, only in obedience to the law, but they are satisfied
if they may be allowed to live with one another unwedded; and
such a nature is prone to love and ready to return love, always
embracing that which is akin to him. And when one of them finds
his other half, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another
sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship
and intimacy, and one will not be out of the other's sight, as
I may say, even for a moment: they will pass their whole lives
together; yet they could not explain what they desire of one another.
For the intense yearning that each of them has towards the other
does not appear to be the desire of lovers' intercourse, but of
something else which the soul of either evidently desires and
cannot tell, and of which she only has a dark and doubtful presentiment.
Suppose Hephaestus, with his instruments, to come to the pair
who are lying side by side and say to them, ' What do you people
want of one another?' they would be unable to explain. And suppose
further that when he saw their perplexity he said: ' Do you desire
to be wholly one; always day and night to be in one another's
company? for if this is what vou desire, I am ready to melt you
into one and let you grow together, so that being two you shall
become one, and while you live, live a common life as if you were
a single man, and after your death in the world below still be
one departed soul instead of two-I ask whether this is what you
lovingly desire, and whether you are satisfied to attain this?'-there
is not a man of them who when he heard the proposal would deny
or would not  acknowledge that this meeting and melting in
one another's arms, this becoming one instead of two, was the
very expression of his ancient need."
SOCRATES, in his speech, and especially in the later portion of
it where he quotes his supposed tutoress Diotima, carries the
argument up to its highest issue. After contending for the essentially
creative, generative nature of love, not only in the Body but
in the Soul, he proceeds to say that it is not so much the seeking
of a lost half which causes the creative impulse in lovers, as
the fact that in our mortal friends we are contemplating (though
unconsciously) an image of the Essential and Divine Beauty; it
is this that affects us with that wonderful " mania,"
and lifts us into the region where we become creators. And he
follows on to the conclusion that it is by wisely and truly loving
our visible friends that at last, after long, long experience,
there dawns upon us the vision of that Absolute Beauty which by
mortal eyes must ever remain unseen:
Speech of Socrates
" He who has been instructed thus far in the things of love,
and who has learned to see the beautiful in due order and succession,
when he comes towards the end will suddenly perceive a  nature
of wondrous beauty . . . beauty absolute, separate, simple and
everlasting, which without diminution and without increase, or
any change, is imparted to the evergrowing and perishing beauties
of all other things. He who, from these ascending under the influence
of true love, begins to perceive that beauty, is not far from
This is indeed the culmination, for Plato, of all existence-the
ascent into the presence of that endless Beauty of which all fair
mortal things are but the mirrors. But to condense this great
speech of Socrates is impossible; only to persistent and careful
reading (if even then) will it yield up all its treasures.
IN the dialogue named Phaedrus the same idea is worked
out, only to some extent in reverse order. As in the Symposium the lover by rightly loving at last rises to the vision of the
Supreme Beauty; so in the Phzdrus it is explained that in reality
every soul has at some time seen that Vision (at the time, namely,
of its true initiation, when it was indeed winged)-but has forgotten
it; and that it is the dim reminiscence of that Vision, constantly
working within us, which guides us to our earthlv loves and renders
their effect  upon us so transporting. Long ago, in some other
condition of being, we saw Beauty herself:
"But of beauty, I repeat again that we saw her there shining
in company with the celestial forms; and coming to earth we find
her here too, shining in clearness through the clearest aperture
of sense. For sight is the keenest of our bodily senses; though
not by that is wisdom seen; her loveliness would have been transporting
if there had been a visible image of her, and the same is true
of the loveliness of the other ideas as well. But this is the
privilege of beauty, that she is the loveliest and also the most
palpable to sight. Now he who is not newly initiated, or who has
become corrupted, does not easily rise out of this world to the
sight of true beauty in the other; he looks only at her earthly
namesake, and instead of being awed at the sight of her, like
a brutish beast he rushes on to enjoy and beget; he consorts with
wantonness, and is not afraid or ashamed of pursuing pleasure
in violation of nature. But he whose initiation is recent, and
who has been the spectator of many glories in the other world,
is amazed when he sees any one having a god-like face or form,
which is the expression of Divine Beauty; and at first a shudder
runs through him, and again the old awe steals over him; then
looking upon the face of his beloved as of a god he reverences
him, and if he were not afraid ot being  thought a downright
madman, he would sacrifice to his beloved as to the image of a
The Phaedrus of Plato, trans. B. Fowett.
"And so the beloved who, like a god, has received every true
and loyal service from his lover, not in pretence but in reality,
being also himself of a nature friendly to his admirer, if in
former days he has blushed to own his passion and turned away
his lover, because his youthful companions or others slanderously
told him that he would be disgraced, now as years advance, at
the appointed age and time, is led to receive him into communion.
For fate which has ordained that there shall be no friendship
among the evil has also ordained that there shall ever be friendship
among the good And when he has received him into communion and
intimacy, then the beloved is amazed at the goodwill of the lover;
he recognizes that the inspired friend is worth all other friendships
or kinships, which have nothing of friendship in them in comparison.
And when this feeling continues and he is nearer to him and embraces
him, in gymnastic exercises and at other times of meeting, then
does the fountain of that stream, which Zeus when he was in love
with Ganymede named desire, overflow upon the lover, and some
enters into his soul and some when he is filled flows out again;
and as a breeze or an echo rebounds from the smooth rocks and
returns whence it came, so does the  stream of beauty, passing
the eyes which are the natural doors and windows of the soul,
return again to the beautiful one; there arriving and quickening
the passages of the wings, watering them and inclining them to
grow, and filling the snul of the beloved also with love."
For Plato the real power which ever moves the soul is this reminiscence
of the Beauty which exists before all worlds. In the actual world
the soul lives but in anguish, an exile from her true home; but
in the presence of her friend, who reveals the Divine, she is
loosed from her suffering and comes to her haven of rest.
"And wherever she [the soul] thinks that she will behold
the beautiful one, thither in her desire she runs. And when she
has seen him, and bathed herself with the waters of desire, her
constraint is loosened, and she is refreshed, and has no more
pangs and pains; and this is the sweetest of all pleasures at
the time, and is the reason why the soul of the lover will never
forsake his beautiful one, whom he esteems above all; he has forgotten
mother and brethren and companions, and he thinks nothing of the
neglect and loss of his property; the rules and proprieties of
life, on which he formerly prided himself, he now despises, and
is ready to sleep like a servant, wherever he is allowed, as near
as he can to his beautiful one, who  is not only the object
of his worship, but the only physician who can heal him in his
The Symposium of Xenophon
AT another time, in the Banquet of Xenophon, Socrates is
again made to speak at length on the subject of Love-though not
in so inspired a strain as in Plato:
"Truly, to speak for one, I never remember the time when
I was not in love; I know too that Charmides has had a great many
lovers, and being much beloved has loved again. As for Critobulus,
he is still of an age to love, and to be beloved; and Nicerates
too, who loves so passionately his wife, at least as report goes,
is equally beloved by her.... And as for you, Callias, you love,
as well as the rest of us; for who is it that is ignorant of your
love for Autolycus? It is the town-talk; and foreigners, as well
as our citizens, are acquainted with it. The reason for your loving
him, I believe to be that you are both born of illustrious families;
and at the same time are both possessed of personal qualities
that render you yet more illustrious. For me, I always admired
the sweetness and evenness of your temper; but much more when
I consider that your passion for Autolycus is placed on a person
who has nothing luxurious or affected in him; but in all things
shows a vigor and temperance wo:chy of a virtuous soul; which
is a proof at the same time  that if he is infinitely beloved,
he deserves to be so. I confess indeed I am not firmly persuaded
whether there be but one Venus or two, the celestial and the vulgar;
and it may be with this goddess, as with Jupiter, who has many
different names though there is still but one Jupiter. But I know
very well that both the Venuses have quite different altars, temples
and sacrifices. The vulgar Venus is worshipped after a common
negligent manner; whereas the celestial one is adored in purity
and sanctity of life. The vulgar inspires mankind with the love
of the body only, but the celestial fires the mind with the love
of the soul, with friendship, and a generous thirst after noble
actions.... Nor is it hard to prove, Callias, that gods and heroes
have always had more passion and esteem for the charms of the
soul, than those of the body: at least this seems to have been
the opinion of our ancient authors. For we may observe in the
fables of antiquity that Jupiter, who loved several mortals on
account of their personal beauty only, never conferred upon them
immortality. Whereas it was otherwise with Hercules, Castor, Pollux,
and several others; for having admired and applauded the greatness
of their courage and the beauty of their minds, he enrolled them
in the number of the gods.... You are then infinitely obliged
to the gods, Callias, who have inspired you with love and friendship
for Autolycus, as they have inspired Critobulus with the same
for Amandra; for real and pure  friendship knows no difference
Banquet of Xenophon # viii. (Bohn).
PLUTARCH, who wrote in the first century A.D. (nearly 500
years after Plato), carried on the tradition of his master, though
with an admixture of later influences; and philosophized about
friendship, on the basis of true love being a reminiscence.
" The rainbow is I suppose a reflection caused by the sun's
rays falling on a moist cloud, making us think the appearance
is in the cloud. Similarly erotic fancy in the case of noble souls
causes a reflection of the memory from things which here appear
and are called beautiful to what is really dlvine and lovely and
felicitous and wonderfut But most lovers pursuing and groping
after the semblance of beauty in youths and women, as in mirrors,
[cf. "For now we see by means of a mirror darkly (lit. enigmatically);
but then face to face; now I know in part; but then shall I know
even as also I am known." I Cor. xiii. 12.] can derive nothing
more certain than pleasure mixed with pain. And this seems the
love-delirium of Ixion, who instead of the joy he desired embraced
only a cloud, as children who desire to take the rainbow into
their hands, clutching at whatever they see. But different is
the behavior of the noble and chaste lover: for he reflects on
the divine beauty that can only be felt, while he uses the beauty
of the visible body only  as an organ of the memory, though
he embraces it and loves it, and associating with it is still
more infiamed in mind. And so neither in the body do they sit
ever gazing at and desiring this light, nor after death do they
return to this world again, and skulk and loiter about the doors
and bedchambers of newly-married people, disagreeable ghosts of
pleasure-loving and sensual men and women, who do not rightly
deserve the name of lovers. For the true lover, when he has got
into the other world and associated with beauties as much as is
lawful, has wings and is initiated and passes his time above in
the presence of his Deity, dancing and waiting upon him, until
he goes back to the meadows of the Moon and Aphrodite, and sleeping
there commences a new existence. But this is a subject too high
for the present occasion."
Plutach: Eroticus # XX. trans. Bohn's Classics.
ARISTOTLE (Ethics, bk.viii.) says:
"Friendship is a thing most necessary to life, since without
friends no one would choose to live, though possessed of all other
advantages." . . . " Since then his own life is, to
a good man, a thing naturally sweet and ultimately desirable,
for a similar reason is the life of his friend agreeable to him,
and delightful merely on its own account, and without reference
to any object beyond it; and to live without friends is to be
destitute of a good, unconditioned, absolute, and in itself desirable;
 and therefore to be deprived of one of the most solid and
most substantial of all enjoyments."
" Being asked ' What is Friendship ? ' Aristotle replied,
'One soul in two bodies."'
EPAMINONDAS and Pelopidas, the Theban statesmen and generals,
were celebrated for their devotion to each other. In a battle
(B. C. 385) against the Arcadians, Epaminondas is said to have
saved his friend's life. Plutarch in his Life of Pelopidas relates
"Epaminondas and he were both born with the same dispositions
to all kinds of virtues, but Pelopidas took more pleasure in the
exercises of the body, and Epaminondas in the improvements of
the mind; so that they spent all their leisure time, the one in
hunting, and the pelestra, the other in learned conversation,
and the study of philosophy. But of all the famous actions for
which they are so much celebrated, the judicious part of mankind
reckon none so great and glorious as that strict friendship which
they inviolably preserved through the whole course of their lives,
in all the high posts they held, both military and civil.... For
being both in that battle, near one another in the infantry, and
fighting against the Arcadians, that wing of the Lacedaemonians
in which they were, gave way and was broken; which Pelopidas and
Epaminondas perceiving,  they joined their shields, and keeping
close together, bravely repulsed all that attacked them, till
at last Pelopidas, after receiving seven large wounds, fell upon
a heap of friends and enemies that lay dead together. Epaminondas,
though he believed him slain, advanced before him to defend his
body and arms, and for a long time maintained his ground against
great numbers of the Arcadians, being resolved to die rather than
desert his companion and leave him in the enemy's power; but being
wounded in his breast by a spear, and in his arm by a sword, he
was quite disabled and ready to fall, when Agesipolis, king of
the Spartans, came from the other wing to his relief, and beyond
all expectation saved both their lives."
POLEMON and Krates were followers of Plato in philosophy,
and in their time (about 300 B. C.) leaders of the Platonic School.
They were, according to Hesychius, devoted friends:
" Krates and Polemon loved each other so well that they not
only were occupied in life with the same work, but they almost
drew breath simultaneously; and in death they shared the same
grave. On account of which, Archesilaus, who visited them in company
with Theophrastus (a pupil of Aristotle), spoke of them as gods,
or survivors from the Golden Age."
 ALEXANDER, the great World-Conqueror, was born B.C.
356, and was King of Macedonia B. C. 336-323. His great favorite
was Hephaestion, who had been brought up and educated with him.
"When Hephaestion died at Ecbatana (in 324) Alexander placed
his weapons upon the funeral pyre, wlth gold and silver for the
dead man, and a robe-which last, among the Persians is a symbol
of great honor. He shore off his own hair, as in Homeric grief,
and behaved like the Achilles of Homer. Indeed he acted more violently
and passionately than the latter, for he caused the towers and
strongholds of Ecbatana to be demolished all round. As long as
he only dedicated his own hair, he was behaving, I think, like
a Greek; but when he laid hands on the very walls, Alexander was
already showing his grief in foreign fashion. Even in his clothing
he departed from ordinary custom, and gave himself up to his mood,
his love, and his tears."
Aelian's Varia Historia, vii, 8.
III: POETRY OF FRIENDSHIP AMONG GREEKS
 THE fact, already mentioned, that the romance of love among
the Greeks was chiefly felt towards male friends, naturally led
to their poetry being largely inspired by friendship; and Greek
literature contains such a great number of poems of this sort,
that I have thought it worth while to dedicate the main portion
of the following section to quotations from them. No translations
of course can do justice to the beauty of the originals, but the
few specimens given may help to illustrate the depth and tenderness
as well as the temperance and sobriety which on the whole characterized
Greek feeling on this subject, at any rate during the best period
of Hellenic culture. The remainder of the section is devoted to
Roman poetry of the time of the Caesars.
It is not always realized that the Iliad of Homer turns upon the
motive of friendship, but the extracts immediately following will
perhaps make this clear. E. F. M. Benecke in his Position of
Women in Greek Poetry ( p. 76 ) says of the Iliad:
 " It is a story of which the main motive is the love
of Achilles for Patroclus. This solution is astoundingly simple,
and yet it took me so long to bring myself to accept it that I
am quite ready to forgive any one who feels a similar hesitation.
But those who do accept it cannot fail to observe, on further
consideration, how thoroughly suitable a motive of this kind would
be in a national Greek epic. For this is the motive running through
the whole of Greek life, till that life was transmuted by the
influence of Macedonia. The lover-warriors Achilles and Patroclus
are the direct spiritual ancestors of the sacred Band of Thebans,
who died to a man on the field of Chaeronaea"
The following two quotations are from The Greek Poets by
J. A. Symonds, ch. iii., p. 80 et seq.:
" The Iliad therefore has for its whole subject the passion
of Acnilles-that ardent energy or menis of the hero which
displayed itself first as anger against Agamemnon, and afterwards
as love for the lost Patroclus. The truth of this was perceived
by one of the greatest poets and profoundest critics of the modern
world, Dante. When Dante, in the Inferno, wished to describe
Achilles, he wrote, with characteristic brevity:
"Achille/ Che per amore al fine combatteo."
("Achilles/ Who at the last was brought to fight by love.")
" In this pregnant sentence Dante sounded the whole depth
of the Iliad. The wrath of Achilles for Agamemnon, which prevented
him at first from fighting; the love of Achilles, passing the
love of women, for Patroclus, which induced him to forego his
anger and to fight at last; these are the two poles on which the
After his quarrel with Agamemnon, not even ail the losses of the
Greeks and the entreaties of Agamemnon himself will induce Achilles
to fight -not till Patroclus is slain by Hector-Patroclus, his
dear friend " whom above all my comrades I honored, even
as myself."Then he rises up, dons his armor, and driving
the Trojans before him revenges himself on the body of Hector.
But Patroclus lies yet unburied; and when the fighting is over,
to Achilles comes the ghost of his dead friend:
" The son of Peleus, by the shore of the roaring sea lay,
heavily groaning, surrounded by his Myrmidons; on a fair space
of sand he lay, where the waves lapped the beach. Then slumber
took him, loosing the cares of his heart, and mantling softly
around him, for sorelv wearied were his radiant limbs with driving
Hector on by windy  Troy. There to him came the soul of poor
Patroclus, in all things like himself, in stature, and in the
beauty of his eyes and voice, and on the form was raiment like
his own. He stood above the hero's head, and spake to him:
" Sleepest thou, and me hast thou forgotten, Achilles? Not
in my life wert thou neglectful of me, but in death. Bury me soon,
that I may pass the gates of Hades. Far off the souls, the shadows
of the dead, repel me, nor suffer me to join them on the river
bank; but, as it is, thus I roam around the wide-doored house
of Hades. But stretch to me thy hand I entreat; for never again
shall I return from Hades when once ye shall have given me the
meed of funeral fire. Nay, never shall we sit in life apart from
our dear comrades and take counsel together. But me hath hateful
fate enveloped-fate that was mine at the moment of my birth. And
for thyself, divine Achilles, it is doomed to die beneath the
noble Trojan's wall. Another thing I say to thee, and bid thee
do it if thou wilt obey me:-lay not my bones apart from thine,
Achilles, but lay them together; for we were brought up together
in your house, when Menetius brought me, a child, from Opus to
your house, because of woeful bloodshed on the day in which I
slew the son of Amphidamas, myself a child, not willing it but
in anger at our games. Then did the horseman, Peleus, take me,
and rear me in his house, and cause me to be called thy squire.
So then let one grave also hide  the bones of both of us,
the golden urn thy goddess-mother gave to thee.'
" Him answered swift-footed Achilles:
'Why, dearest and most honored, hast thou hither come, to lay
on me this thy behest? All things most certainly will I perform,
and bow to what thou biddest. But stand thou near: even for one
moment let us throw our arms upon each other's neck, and take
our fill of sorrowful wailing.'
" So spake he, and with his outstretched hands he clasped,
but could not seize. The spirit, earthward, like smoke, vanished
with a shriek. Then all astonished arose Achilles, and beat his
palms together, and spake a piteous word:
" ' Heavens ! is there then, among the dead, soul and the
shade of life, but thought is theirs no more at all? For through
the night the soul of poor Patroclus stood above my head, wailing
and sorrowing loud, and bade me do his will; it was the very semblance
" So spake he, and in the hearts of all of them he raised
desire of lamentation; and while they were yet mourning, to them
appeared rose-fingered dawn about the piteous corpse."
Iliad, xxiii. 59 et seq.
PLATO in the Symposium dwells tenderly on this relation between
Achilles and Patroclus:-
 [And great] " was the reward of the true love of Achilles
towards his lover Patroclus-his lover and not his love (the notion
that Patroclus was the beloved one is a foolish error into which
AEschylus has fallen, for Achilles was surely the fairer of the
two, fairer also than all the other heroes; and, as Homer informs
us, he was still beardless, and younger far). And greatly as the
gods honor the virtue of love, still the return of love on the
part of the beloved to the lover is more admired and valued and
rewarded by them, for the lover has a nature more divine and worthy
of worship. Now Achilles was quite aware, for he had been told
by his mother, that he might avoid death and return home, and
live to a good old age, if he abstained from slaying Hector. Nevertheless
he gave his life to revenge his friend, and dared to die, not
only on his behalf, but after his death. Wherefore the gods honored
him even above Alcestis, and sent him to the Islands of the Blest."
Symposium, speech of Phedrus, trans. by B. Fowett.
And on this passage Symonds has the following note:-
" Plato, discussing the Myrmidones of AEschylus, remarks
in the Symposium that the tragic poet was wrong to make Achilles
the lover of Patroclus, seeing that Patroclus was the elder of
the two, and that Achilles was the youngest and  most beautiful
of all the Greeks. The fact however is that Homer raises no question
in our minds about the relation of lover and beloved. Achilles
and Patroclus are comrades. Their friendship is equal. It was
only the reflective activity of the Greek mind, working upon the
Homeric legend by the light of subsequent custom, which introduced
The Greek Poets, ch. iii. p. 103
From the time of Homer onwards, Greek literature was full of songs
" And in fact there was such emulation about composing poems
of this sort, and so far was any one from thinking lightly of
the amatory poets, that AEschylus, who was a very great poet,
and Sophocles too introduced the subject of the loves of men on
the stage in their tragedies: the one describing the love of Achilles
for Patroclus, and the other, in his Niobe, the mutual love of
her sons (on which account some have given an ill name to that
tragedy); and all such passages as those are very agreeable to
Athenaeus, bk. xiii. ch. 75.
ONE of the earlier Greek poets was Theognis (B.C. 550)
whose Gnoma or Maxims were a series of verses mostly addressed
to his young friend Kurnus, whom by this means he sought to 
guide and instruct out of the stores of his own riper experience.
The verses are reserved and didactic for the most part, but now
and then, as in the following passage, show deep underlying feeling:
"Lo, I have given thee wings wherewith to fly
Over the boundless ocean and the earth;
Yea, on the lips of many shalt thou lie
The comrade of their banquet and their mirth.
Youths in their loveliness shall make thee sound
Upon the silver flute's melodious breath;
And when thou goest darkling underground
Down to the lamentable house of death,
Oh yet not then from honor shalt thou cease,
But wander, an imperishable name,
Kurnus, about the seas and shores of Greece,
Crossing from isle to isle the barren main.
Horses thou shalt not need, but lightly ride
Sped by the Muses of the violet crown,
And men to come, while earth and sun abide,
Who cherish song shall cherish thy renown.
Yea, I have given thee wings! and in return
Thou givest me the scorn with which I burn."
Theognis Gnomai, lines 237-254,
trans. by G. Lowes Dickinson.
AS Theognis had his well-loved disciples, so had the poetess Sappho (600 B. C.). Her devotion to her girl-friends and companions is
"What Alcibiades and Charmides and PhCedrus were to Socrates,
Gyrinna and Atthis and Anactoria were to the Lesbian."
Max Tyrius,quoted in H. T. Wharton's Sappho, p. 23.
Perhaps the few lines of Sappho, translated or paraphrased by
Catullus under the title To Lesbia, form the most celebrated
fragment of her extant work. They may be roughly rendered thus:
" Peer of all the gods unto me appeareth
He of men who sitting beside thee heareth
Close at hand thy syllabled words sweet spoken,
Or loving laughter"
That sweet laugh which flutters my heart and bosom.
For, at sight of thee, in an instant fail me
Voice and speech, and under my skin there courses
Swiftly a thin flame;
" Darkness is on my eyes, in my ears a drumming,
Drenched in sweat my frame, my body trembling;
Paler ev'n than grass-'tis, I doubt, but little
From death divides me."
SEVERAL of the odes of Anacreon (B.C. 5 20) are addressed
to his young friend Bathyllus. The following short one has been
preserved to us by Athenaeus (bk. Xiii. #17)
"O boy, with virgin-glancing eye,
I call thee, but thou dost not hear;
Thou know'st not how my soul doth cry
For thee, its charioteer."
Anacreon had not the passion and depth of Sappho, but there is
a mark of genuine feeling in some of his poems, as in this simple
" On their hindquarters horses
Are branded oft with fire,
And any one knows a Parthian
Because he wears a tiar;
And I at sight of lovers
Their nature can declare,
For in their hearts they too
Some subtle flame-mark bear"
The following fragment is from Pindar's Ode to his young
friend Theoxenos-in whose arms Pindar is said to have died (B.
" O soul, 'tis thine in season meet,
O pluck of love the blossom sweet,
When hearts are young:
 But he who sees the blazing beams,
The light that from that forehead streams,
And is not stung;
Who is not storm-tossed with desire,
Lo! he, I ween, with frozen fire,
Of adamant or stubborn steel
Is forged in his cold heart that cannot feel."
Trans. by J. Addington Symonds, The Greek Poets, vol. I,
PLATO'S epigrams on Aster and Agathon are r well known.
The two first-quoted make a play of course on the name Aster (star).
"Thou wert the morning star among the living,
Ere thy fair light had fled;
Now, having died, thou art as Hesperus, giving
New splendor to the dead."
To the same:
"Thou at the stars dost gaze, who art my star
-O would that I were
Heaven, to gaze on thee, ever with thousands of eyes."
"Thee as I kist, behold ! on my lips my own soul
For, bold one, she had come, meaning to find
her way through."
 There are many other epigrams and songs on the same subject
from the Greek writers. The following is by Meleager (a
native of Gadara in Palestine) about 60 B. C., and one of the
sweetest and most human of the lyric poets:
"O mortals crossed in love I the Southwind, see I
That blows so fair for sailor folk, hath ta'en
Half of my soul, Andragathos, from me.
Thrice happy ships, thrice blessed billowy main,
And four times favored wind that bears the youth,
O would I were a Dolphin! so, in truth,
High on my shoulders ferried he should come
To Rhodes, sweet haunt of boys, his island- home."
From the Greek Anthology, ii. 402.
Also from the Greek Anthology:
O say, and again repeat, fair, fair-and still I will say it
How fair, my friend, and good to see, thou art;
On pine or oak or wall thy name I do not blazon
Love has too deeply graved it in my heart."
" Perhaps the most beautiful [says J. A. Symonds of the sepulchral
epigrams Is one by an  unknown writer, of which I here give
a free paraphrase. Anth. Pal., vii. 346:
"' Of our great love, Parthenophil,
This little stone abideth still
Sole sign and token:
I seek thee yet, and yet shall seek,
Tho' faint mine eyes, my spirit weak
With prayers unspoken.
"Meanwhile best friend or friends, do thou,
If this the cruel fates allow,
By death's dark river,
Among those shadowy people, drink
No drop for me on Lethe's brink:
Forget me never I "'
The Greek Poets, vol 2, p. 298.
THEOCRITUS, though coming late in the Greek age (about
300 B. C.) when Athens had yielded place to Alexandria, still
carried on the Greek tradition in a remarkable way. A native of
Syracuse, he caught and echoed in a finer form the life and songs
of the country folk of that region-themselves descendants of Dorian
settlers. Songs and ballads full of similar notes linger among
the Greek peasants, shepherds and fisher-folk, even down to the
The following poem (trans. by M. J.  Chapman, 1836) is one
of the best known and most beautiful of his Idyls:
"Art come, dear youth? two days and nights away I
(Who burn with love, grow aged in a day.)
As much as apples sweet the damson crude
Excel; the blooming spring the winter rude;
In fleece the sheep her lamb; the maiden in sweetness
The thrice-wed dame; the fawn the calf in fleetness;
The nightingale in song all feathered kind
So much thy longed-for presence cheers my mind.
To thee I hasten, as to shady beech,
The traveller, when from the heaven's reach
The sun fierce blazes. May our love be strong,
To all hereafter times the theme of song!
' Two men each other loved to that degree,
That either friend did in the other see
A dearer than himself. They lived of old
Both golden natures in an age of old.'
" O father Zeus I ageless immortals all !
Two hundred ages hence may one recall,
Down-coming to the irremeable river,
This to my mind, and this good news deliver:
'E'en now from east to west, from north to south,
Your mutual friendship lives in every mouth.'
This, as they please, th' Olympians will decide:
 Of thee, by blooming virtue beautified,
My glowing song shall only truth disclose;
With falsehood's pustules I'll not shame my nose.
If thou dost sometime grieve me, sweet the pleasure
Of reconcilement, joy in double measure
To find thou never didst intend the pain,
And feel myself from all doubt free again.
" And ye Megarians, at Nisaae dwelling,
Expert at rowing, mariners excelling,
Be happy everl for with honors due
Th' Athenian Diocles, to friendship true
Ye celebrate. With the first blush of spring
The youth surround his tomb: there who shall bring
The sweetest kiss, whose lip is purest found,
Back to his mother goes with garlands crowned.
Nice touch the arbiter must have indeed,
And must, methinks, the blue-eyed Ganymede
Invoke with many prayers-a mouth to own
True to the touch of lips, as Lydian stone
To proof of gold-which test will instant show
The pure or base, as money changers know."
The following Idyl, of which I append a rendering, is attributed
" They say, dear boy, that wine and truth agree;
And, being in wine, I'll tell the truth to thee
.es, all that works in secret in my soul.
'Tis this: thou dost not love me with thy whole
Untampered heart. I know; for half my time
Is spent in gazing on thy beauty's prime;
The other half is nought. When thou art good,
My days are like the gods'; but when the mood
Tormenting takes thee, 'tis my night of woe.
How were it right to vex a lover so?
Take my advice, my lad, thine elder friend,
'Twill make thee glad and grateful in the end:
In one tree build one nest, so no grim snake
May creep upon thee. For to-day thou'lt make
Thy home on one branch, and to-morrow changing
Wilt seek another, to what's new still ranging;
And should a stranger praise your handsome face,
Him more than three-year-proven friend you'llgrace,
While him who loved you first you'll treat as cold
As some acquaintanceship of three days old.
Thou fliest high, methinks, in love and pride;
But I would say: keep ever at thy side
A mate that is thine equal; doing so,
The townsfolk shall speak well of thee alway,
And love shall never visit thee with woe-
Love that so easily men's hearts can flay,
And mine has conquered that was erst of steel.
Nay, by thy gracious lips I make appeal:
Remember thou wert younger a year agone
 And we grow grey and wrinkled, all, or e'er
We can escape our doom; of mortals none
His youth retakes again, for azure wings
Are on her shoulders, and we sons of care
Are all too slow to catch such flying things.
Mindful of this, be gentle, is my prayer,
And love me, guileless, ev'n as I love thee;
So when thou hast a beard, such friends as were
Achilles and Patroclus we may be."
BION was a poet of about the same period as Theocritus,
but of whom little is known.
The following is a fragment translated by A. Lang:
"Happy are they that love, when with equal love they are
rewarded. Happy was Theseus, when Pirithous was by his side, yea
tho' he went down to the house of implacable Hades. Happy among
hard men and inhospitable was Orestes, for that Pylades chose
to share his wanderings. And he was happy, Achilles AEacides,
while his darling lived,-happy was he in his death, because he
avenged the dread fate of Patroclus."
Theocritus, Bion and Moschus, Golden Treasury series, p.
The beautiful Lament for Bion by Moschus is interesting
in this connection, and should be [80 compared with Shelley's
lament for Keats in Adonais -for which latter poem indeed
it supplied some suggestions:
"Ye mountain valleys, pitifully groan!
Rivers and Dorian springs for Bion weep!
Ye plants drop tears I ye groves lamenting moan !
Exhale your life, wan flowers; your blushes deep
In grief, anemonies and roses, steep!
In softest murmurs, Hyacinth I prolong
The sad, sad woe thy lettered petals keep;
Our minstrel sings no more his friends among
Sicilian muses now begin the doleful song."
M. F. Chapman trans. in the Greek Pastoral Poets, 1836.
The allusion to Hyacinth is thus explained by Chapman:
"Hyacinthus, a Spartan youth, the son of Clio, was in great
favor with Apollo. Zephyrus, being enraged that he preferred Apollo
to him, blew the discus when flung by Apollo, on a day that Hyacinthus
was playing at discus-throwing with that god, against the head
of the youth, and so killed him. Apollo, being unable to save
his life, changed him into the flower which was named after him,
and on whose petals the Greeks fancied they could trace the notes
of grief. [Seen within the flower we call Larkspur'].A festival
called the Hyacinthia was celebrated for three  days in each
year at Sparta, in honor of the godand his unhappy favorite."
Note to Moschus, Idyl ii:.
The story of Apollo and Hyacinth is gracefully told by
Ovid, in the tenth book of his Metamorphoses:
" Midway betwixt the past and coming night
Stood Titan [the Sun] when the pair, their limbs unrobed,
And glist'ning with the olive's unctuous juice,
In friendly contest with the discus vied."
[The younger one is struck by the discus; and like a fading flower]
" To its own weight unequal drooped the head
Of Hyacinth; and o'er him wailed the god:-
Liest thou so, OEbalia's child, of youth
Untimely robbed, and wounded by my fault-
At once my grief and guilt?-This hand hath dealt
Thy death I 'Tis I who send thee to the grave!
And yet scarce guilty, unless guilt it were
To sport, or guilt to love theel Would this life
Might thine redeem, or be with thine resigned!
But thou-since Fate denies a god to die-
Be present with me everl Let thy name
Dwell ever in my heart and on my lips,
Theme of my lyre and burden of my song;
And ever bear the echo of my wail
Writ on thy new-born flowerl The time shall come
When, with thyself associate, to its nameThe mightiest of the
Greeks shall link his own.
Prophetic as Apollo mourned, the blood
That with its dripping crimson dyed the turf
Was blood no more: and sudden sprang to life
Ovid's Metamorphoses trans. H. King, London, 1871
IN Roman literature, generally, as might be expected, with its
more materialistic spirit, the romance of friendship is little
dwelt upon; though the grosser side of the passion, in such writers
as Catullus and Martial, is much in evidence. Still we find in Virgil a notable instance. His 2nd Eclogue bears the marks
of genuine feeling; and, according to some critics, he there under
the guise of Shepherd Corydon's love for Alexis celebrates his
own attachment to the youthful Alexander:
" Corydon, keeper of cattle, once loved the fair lad Alexis;
But he, the delight of his master, permitted no hope to the shepherd.
Corydon, lovesick swain, went into the forest of beeches,
And there to the mountains and woods-the one relief of his passion
With useless effort outpoured the following art less complainings:
Alexis, barbarous youth, say, do not my mourn ful lays move thee
Showing me no compassion, thou'lt surely compel me to perish.
Even the cattle now seek after places both cool and shady;
Even the lizards green conceal themselves in the thorn-bush.Thestylis,
taking sweet herbs, such as garlic and thyme, for the reapers
Faint with the scorching noon, doth mash them and bray in a mortar.
Alone in the heat of the day am I left with the screaming cicalas,
While patients in tracking thy path, I ever pur sue thee, Beloved."
Trans. by J. W. Baylis.
There is a translation of this same 2nd Eclogue, by Abraham Fraunce
(1591), which is interesting not only on account of its felicity
of phrase, but because, as in the case of some other Elizabethan
hexameters, the metre is ruled by quantity, i.e., length of syllables,
instead of by accent. The  following are the first five lines
of Fraunce's translation:
"Silly shepherd Corydon lov'd hartyly fayre lad Alexis,
His master's dearling, but saw noe matter of hoping;
Only amydst darck groves thickset with broade-shadoe beech-trees
Dayly resort did he make, thus alone to the woods, to the mountayns,
With broken speeches fond thoughts there vaynly revealing.
CATULLUS also (b. B.C. 87) has some verses of real feeling:
"Quintius, if 'tis thy wish and will
That I should owe my eyes to thee,
Or anything that's dearer still,
If aught that's dearer there can be;
" Then rob me not of that I prize,
Of the dear form that is to me,
Oh I far far dearer than my eyes,
Or aught, if dearer aught there be."
Catullus, trans. Hon. F. Lamb, 1821.
" If all complying, thou would'st grant
Thy lovely eyes to kiss, my fair,
Long as I pleased; ohl I would plant
Three hundred thousand kisses there.
"Nor could I even then refrain,
Nor satiate leave that fount of blisses,
Tho' thicker than autumnal grain
Should be our growing crop of kisses."
" Long at our leisure yesterday
Idling, Licinius, we wrote
Upon my tablets verses gay,
Or took our turns, as fancy smote,
At rhymes and dice and wine.
" But when I left, Licinius mine,
Your grace and your facetious mood
Had fired me so, that neither food
Would stay my misery, nor sleep
My roving eyes in quiet keep.
But still consumed, without respite,
I tossed about my couch in vain
And longed for day-if speak I might,
Or be with you again.
" But when my limbs with all the strain
Worn out, half dead lay on my bed,
Sweet friend to thee this verse I penned,
That so thou mayest condescend
To understand my pain.
" So now, Licinius, beware!
And be not rash, but to my prayer
A gracious hearing tender;
 Lest on thy head pounce Nemesis:
A goddess sudden and swift she is-
Beware lest thou offend her."
The following little poem is taken from Martial:
"As a vineyard breathes, whose boughs with grapes are bending,
Or garden where are hived Sicanian bees;
As upturned clods when summer rain's descending
Or orchards rich with blossom-laden trees;
So, cruel youth, thy kisses breathe -so sweet -
Would'st thou but grant me all their grace, complete ! "
IV: FRIENDSHIP IN EARLY CHRISTIAN
AND MEDIAEVAL TIMES
 THE quotations we have given from Plato and others show the
very high ideal of friendship which obtained in the old world,
and the respect accorded to it. With the incoming of the Christian
centuries, and the growth of Alexandrian and Germanic influences,
a change began to take place. Woman rose to greater freedom and
dignity and influence than before. The romance of love began to
centre round her.[Benecke, Woman in Greek Poetry, traces
a germ of this romance even in Greek days] The days of chivalry
brought a new devotion into the world, and the Church exalted
the Virgin Mother to the highest place in heaven. Friendship between
men ceased to be regarded in the old light -i.e., as a thing of
deep feeling, and an important social institution. It was even,
here and there, looked on with disfavor-and lapses from the purity
or chastity of its standard were readily suspected and violently
reprobated. Certainly it survived in the monastic life for a lone
period:  but though inspiring this to a great extent, its
influence was not generally acknowledged. The Family, in the modern
and more limited sense of the word (as opposed to the clan), became
the recognized unit of social life, and the ideal centre of all
good influences (as illustrated in the worship of the Holy Family).
At the same time, by this very shrinkage of the Family, as well
as by other influences, the solidarity of society became to some
extent weakened, and gradually the more communistic forms of the
early world gave place to the individualism of the commercial
The special sentiment of comrade-love or attachment (being a thing
inherent in human nature) remained of course through the Christian
centuries, as before, and unaltered-except that being no longer
recognized it became a private and personal affair, running often
powerfully enough beneath the surface of society, but openly unacknowledged,
and so far deprived of some of its dignity and influence. Owing
to this fact there is nothing, for this period, to be quoted in
the way of general ideal or public opinion on the subject of friendship,
and the following sections therefore become limited to the expression
of individual sentiments and experiences, in prose and poetry.
 These we find, during the mediaeval period, largely colored
by religion; while at the Renaissance and afterwards they are
evidently affected by Greek associations.
FOLLOWING are some passages from S. Augustine:
" In those years when I first began to teach in my native
town, I had made a friend, one who through having the same interests
was very dear to me, one of my own age, and like me in the first
flower of youth. We had grown up together, and went together to
school, and used to play together. But he was not yet so great
a friend as afterwards, nor even then was our friendship true;
for friendship is not true unless Thou cementest it between those
who are united to Thee by that ' love which is shed abroad in
our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.' Yet our
friendship was but too sweet, and fermented by the pursuit of
kindred studies. For I had turned him aside from the true faith
(of which as a youth he had but an imperfect grasp) to pernicious
and superstitious fables, for which my mother grieved over me.
And now in mind he erred with me, and my soul could not endure
to be separated from him. But lo, Thou didst follow close behind
Thy fugitives, Thou-both God of vengeance and fountain of mercie
--  didst convert us by wonderful ways; behold, Thou didst
take him out of this life, when scarcely a year had our close
intimacy lasted-sweet to me beyond the sweetness of my whole life....
" No ray of light pierced the gloom with which my heart was
enveloped by this grief, and wherever I looked I beheld death.
My native place was a torment to me, and my father's house strangely
joyless; and whatever I had shared with him, without him was now
turned into a huge torture. My longing eyes sought him everywhere,
and found him not; and I hated the very places, because he was
not in them, neither could they say to me ' he is coming,' as
they used to do when he was alive and was absent. And I became
a great puzzle to myself, and I asked my soul why it was so sad,
and why so disquieted within me; and it knew not what to answer.
And if I said ' Trust thou in God,' it rightly did not obey; for
that dearest one whom it had lost was both truer and better than
that phantasm in which it was bidden to trust. Weeping was the
only thing which was sweet to me, and it succeeded my friend in
the dearest place in my heart."
S. Augustine, Confessions, bk. 4, ch. iv. Trans. by Rev.
W. H. Hutchings, M.A.
"I was miserable, and miserable is every soul which is fettered
by the love of perishable things; he is torn to pieces when he
loses them, and then he perceives how miserable he was in reality
while he possessed them. And so was I then,  and I wept most
bitterly, and in that bitterness I found rest. Thus was I miserable,
and that miserable life I held dearer than my friend. For though
I would fain have changed it, yet to it I clung even more than
to him; and I cannot say whether I would have parted with it for
his sake, as it is related, if true, that Orestes and Pylades
were willing to do, for they would gladly have died for each other,
or together, for they preferred death to separation from each
other. But in me a feeling which I cannot explain, and one of
a contradictory nature had arisen; for I had at once an unbearable
weariness of living, and a fear of dying. For I believe the more
I loved him, the more I hated and dreaded death which had taken
him from me, and regarded it as a most cruel enemy; and I felt
as if it would soon devour all men, now that its power had reached
him.... For I marvelled that other mortals lived, because he whom
I had loved, without thought of his ever dying, was dead; and
that I still lived-I who was another self-when he was gone, was
a greater marvel still. Well said a certain one of his friend,
' Thou half of my soul; ' for I felt that his soul and mine were
' one soul in two bodies: ' and therefore life was to me horrible,
because I hated to live as half of a life; and therefore perhaps
I feared to die, lest he should wholly die whom I had loved so
Ibid, ch. vi.
 IT is interesting to see, in these extracts from S. Augustine,
and in those which follow from Montalembert, the points of likeness
and difference between the Christian ideal of love and that of
Plato. Both are highly transcendental, both seem to contemplate
an inner union of souls, beyond the reach of space and time; but
in Plato the union is in contemplation of the Eternal Beauty,
while in the Christian teachers it is in devotion to a personal
" If inanimate nature was to them an abundant source of pleasure
they had a life still more lively and elevated in the life of
the heart, in the double love which burned in them-the love of
their brethren inspired and consecrated by the love of God."
Monks of the West, introdn., ch. v.
" Everything invited and encouraged them to choose one or
several souls as the intimate companions of their life.... And
to prove how little the divine love, thus understood and practised,
tends to exclude or chill the love of man for man, never was human
eloquence more touching or more sincere than in that immortal
elegy by which S. Bernard laments a lost brother snatched by death
from the cloister:-' Flow, flow my tears, so eager to flowl
he who prevented your flowing is here no more I It is not he who
is dead, it is I who now live only to die. Why, O why have we
loved, and why have we lost each other."'
 " The mutual affection which reigned among the monks
flowed as a mighty stream through the annals of the cloister.
It has left its trace even in the ' formulas,' collected with
care by modern eruditions.... The correspondence of the most illustrious,
of Geoffrey de Vendome, of Pierre le Venerable, and of S. Bernard,
give proofs of it at every page."
SAINT ANSELM'S letters to brother monks are full of expressions
of the same ardent affection. Montalembert gives several examples:
"Souls well-beloved of my soul," he wrote to two near
relatives whom he wished to draw to Bec, " my eyes ardently
desire to behold you; my arms expand to embrace you; my lips sigh
for your kisses; all the life that remains to me ts consumed with
waiting for you. I hope in praying, and I pray in hoping-come
and taste how gracious the Lord is-you cannot fully know it while
you find sweetness in the world."
" ' Far from the eyes, far from the heart,' say the vulgar.
Believe nothing of it; if it was so,
the farther you were distant from me the cooler my love for you
would be; whilst on the contrary, the less I can enjoy your presence,
the more the desire of that pleasure burns in the soul of your
" To Gondulf, Anselm-I put no other or longer salutations
at the head of my letter, because I can say nothing more to him
whom I love. All who know Gondulph and Anselm know well what this
means, and how much love is understood in these two names."
. . . " How could I forget thee ? Can a man forget one who
is placed like a seal upon his heart? In thy silence I know that
thou lovest me; and thou also, when I say nothing, thou knowest
that I love thee. Not only have I no doubt of thee, but I answer
for thee that thou art sure of me. What can my letter tell thee
that thou knowest not already, thou who art my second soul? Go
into the secret place of thy heart, look there at thy love for
me, and thou shalt see mine for thee." . . . "Thou knewest
how much I love thee, but I knew it not. He who has separated
us has alone instructed me how dear to me thou wert. No, I knew
not before the experience of thy absence how sweet it was to have
thee, how bitter to have thee not. Thou hast another friend whom
thou hast loved as much or more than me to console thee, but I
have no longer thee l-theel thee l thou understandest? and nothing
to replace thee. Those who rejoice in the possession of thee may
perhaps be offended by what I say. Ah I let them content thernselves
with their joy, and p.ermit me to weep for him whom I ever love."
 THE story of Amis and Amile, a mediaeval legend, translated
by William Morris (as well as by Walter Pater) from the Bibliotheca
Elzeviriana, is very quaint and engaging in its old-world
extravagance and supernaturalism:
Amis and Amile were devoted friends, twins in resemblance and
life. On one occasion, having strayed apart, they ceased not to
seek each other for two whole years. And when at last they met
"they lighted down from their horses, and embraced and kissed
each other, and gave thanks to God that they were found. And they
swore fealty and friendship and fellowship perpetual, the one
to the other, on the sword of Amile, wherein were relics."
Thence they went together to the court of " Charles, king
of France." Here soon after, Amis took Amile's place in a
tournament, saved his life from a traitor, and won for him the
King's daughter to wife. But so it happened that, not long after,
he himself was stricken with leprosy and brought to Amile's door.
And when Amile and his royal bride knew who it was they were sore
grieved, and they brought him in and placed him on a fair bed,
and put all that they had at his service. And it came to pass
one night " when as Amis and Amile lay in one chamber without
other company, that God sent to Amis Raphael his angel, who said
to him: 'Sleepest thou, Amis?' And he,  who deemed that Amile
had called to him, answered: ' I sleep not, fair sweet fellow.'
Then the angel said to him: ' Thou hast answered well, for thou
art the fellow of the citizens of heaven, and thou hast followed
after Job, and Thoby in patience. Now I am Raphael, an angel of
our Lord, and am come to tell thee of a medicine for thine healing,
whereas he hath heard thy prayers. Thou shalt tell to Amile thy
fellow, that he slay his two children and wash thee in their blood,
and thence thou shalt get the healing of thy body."'
Amis was shocked when he heard these words, and at first refused
to tell Amile; but the latter had also heard the angel's voice,
and pressed him to tell. Then, when he knew, he too was sorely
grieved. But at last he determined in his mind not even to spare
his children for the sake of his friend, and going secretly to
their chamber he slew them, and bringing some of their blood washed
Amis-who immediately was healed. He then arrayed Amis in his best
clothes and, after going to the church to give thanks, they met
Amile's wife who (not knowing all) rejoiced greatly too. But Amile,
going apart again to the children's chamber to weep over them,
found them at play in bed, with only a thread of crimson round
their throats to mark what had been done!
The two knights fell afterwards and were killed in the same battle;
" for even as God had joined them together by good accord
in their life  days, so in their death they were not sundered."
And a miracle was added, for even when they were buried apart
from each other the two coffins leapt together in the night and
were found side by side in the morning.
Of this story Mr. Jacobs, in his introduction to William Morris'
translation, says: "Amis and Amil were the David and Jonathan,
the Orestes and Pylades, of the medieval world." There were
some thirty other versions of the legend " in almost all
the tongues of Western and Northern Europe "-their "
peerless friendship " having given them a place among the
(See Old French Romances, trans. by William Morris, London,
IT may not be out of place here, and before passing on to the
times of the Renaissance and Modern Europe, to give one or two
extracts relating to Eastern countries. The honor paid to friendship
in Persia, Arabia, Syria and other Oriental lands has always been
great, and the tradition of this attachment there should be especially
interesting to us, as having arisen independently of classic or
Christian ideals. The poets of Persia, Saadi and Jalalu-ddin Rumi
 (13th cent.), Hafiz (14th cent.), Jami (15th cent.), and
others, have drawn much of their inspiration from this source;
but unfortunately for those who cannot read the originals, their
work has been scantily translated, and the translations themselves
are not always very reliable. The extraordinary way in which,
following the method of the Sufis, and of Plato, they identify
the mortal and the divine love, and see in their beloved an image
or revelation of God himself, makes their poems diflicult of comprehension
to the Western mind. Apostrophes to Love, Wine, and Beauty often,
with them, bear a frankly twofold sense, material and spiritual.
To these poets of the mid-region of the earth, the bitter antagonism
between matter and spirit, which like an evil dream has haunted
so long both the extreme Western and the extreme Eastern mind,
scarcely exists; and even the body " which is a portion of
the dustpit " has become perfect and divine.
" Every form you see has its archetype in the placeless world....
From the moment you came into the world of being
A ladder was placed before you that you might escape ( ascend
First you were mineral, later you turned to plant,
Then you became an animal: how should this be a secret to
Afterwards you were made man, with knowledge, reason, faith;
Behold the body, which is a portion of the dustpit, how perfect
it has grownig
When you have travelled on from man, you will doubtless become
After that you are done with earth: your station is in heaven.
Pass again even from angelhood: enter thatocean,
That your drop may become a sea which is a hundred seas of ' Oman.'
From the Divani Shamsi Tabriz of Jalalu-ddin Rumi, trans.
by R. H. Nicholson.
'Twere better that the spirit which wears not true love as a garment
Had not been: its being is but shame.
Be drunken in love, for love is all that exists.
Dismiss cares and be utterly clear of heart,
Like the face of a mirror, without image or picture.
When it becomes clear of images, all images are contained in it."
Happy the moment when we are seated in the palace, thou and I,
With two forms and with two figures, but with one soul, thou and
"Once a man came and knocked at the door of his friend.
His friend said, ' Who art thou, O faithfulone ? '
He said, "Tis I.' He answered, ' There is no admittance.
There is no room for the raw at my well-cooked feast.
Naught but fire of separation and absence
Can cook the raw one and free him from hypocrisy I
Since thy self has not yet left thee,
Thou must be burned in fiery flames.'
The poor man went away, and for one whole year
Journeyed burning with grief for his friend's absence.
His heart burned till it was cooked; then he went again
And drew near to the house of his friend.
He knocked at the door in fear and trepidation
Lest some careless word should fall from his lips.
His friend shouted, ' Who is that at the door? '
He answered, ' 'Tis thou who art at the door, O beloved I '
The friend said, ' Since 'tis I, let me come in,
There is not room for two I's in one house."'
From the Masnavi of Jalalu-ddin Rumi, trans. by E. H. Whinfield.
HAFIZ and SAADI
SOME short quotations here following are taken from Flowers
culled from Persian Gardens (Manchester, 1872):
"Everyone, whether he be abstemious or self indulgent is
searching after the Friend. Every place may be the abode of love,
whether it be a mosque or a synagogue.... On thy last day, though
the cup be in thy hand, thou may'st be borne away to Paradise
even from the corner of the tavern."
"I have heard a sweet word which was spoken by the old man
of Canaan (Jacob)-' No tongue can express what means the separation
"Neither of my own free will cast I myself into the fire;
for the chain of affection was laid upon my neck. I was still
at a distance when the fire began to glow, nor is this the moment
that it was lighted up within me. Who shall impute it to me as
a fault, that I am enchanted by my friend, that I am content in
casting myself at his feet? "
VON KUPFFER, in his Anthology, Lieblingminne und Freundes liebe
in der Weltliteratur, gives the following three poems from
Saadi and Hafiz:
SAADI'S ROSE GARDEN
"A youth there was of golden heart and nature,
Who loved a friend, his like in every feature;
 Once, as upon the ocean sailed the pair,
They chanced into a whirlpool unaware.
A fisherman made haste the first to save,
Ere his young life should meet a watery grave;
But crying from the raging surf, he said:
' Leave me, and seize my comrade's hand instead.'
E'en as he spoke the mortal swoon o'ertook him,
With that last utterance life and sense forsook him.
Learn not love's temper from that shallow pate
Who in the hour of fear forsakes his mate
True friends will ever act like him above
(Trust one who is experienced in love);
For Sadi knows full well the lover's part,
And Bagdad understands the Arab heart.
More than all else thy loved one shalt thou prize,
Else is the whole world hidden from thine eyes."
Lov'st thou a being formed of dust like thee
Peace and contentment from thy heart shall flee -
Waking, fair limbs and features shall torment thee;
Sleeping, thy love in dreams shall hold and haunt thee.
Under his feet thy head is bowed to earth;
Compared with him the world's a paltry crust;
If to thy loved one gold is nothing worth,
Why, then to thee is gold no more than dust
 Hardly a word for others canst thou find,
For no room's left for others in thy mind."
" Dear Friend, since thou hast passed the whole
Of one sweet night, till dawn, with me,
I were scarce mortal, could I spend
Another hour apart from thee.
The fear of death, for all of time
Hath left me since my soul partook
The water of true Life, that wells
In sweet abundance from thy brook."
Hahn in his Albanesische Studien, already quoted (p. 20),
gives some of the verses of Necin or Nesim Bey, a Turco-Albanian
poet, of which the following is an example:
"Whate'er, my friend, or false or true,
The world may tell thee, give no ear,
For to separate us, dear,
The world will say that one is two.
Who should seek to separate us
May he never cease to weep.
The rain at times may cease; but he
In Summer's warmth or Winter's sleep
May he never cease to weep."
BESIDES literature there is no doubt a vast amount of material
embedded in the customs and traditions of these countries and
awaiting adequate recognition and interpretation.  The following
quotations may afford some glimpses of interest.
Suleyman the Magnificent.-The Story of Suleyman's attachment
to his Vezir Ibrahim is told as follows by Stanley Lane-Poole:
" Suleyman, great as he was, shared his greatness with a
second mind, to which his reign owed much of its brilliance. The
Grand Vezir Ibrahim was the counterpart of the Grand Monarch Suleyman.
He was the son of a sailor at Parga, and had been captured by
corsairs, by whom he was sold to be the slave of a widow at Magnesia.
Here he passed into the hands of the young prince Suleyman, then
Governor of Magnesia, and soon his extraordinary talents and address
brought him promotion.... From being Grand Falconer on the accession
of Suleyman, he rose to be first minister and almost co-Sultan
" He was the object of the Sultan's tender regard: an emperor
knows better than most men how solitary is life without friendship
and love, and Suleyman loved this man more than a brother. Ibrahim
was not only a friend, he was an entertaining and instructive
companion. He read Persian, Greek and Italian; he knew how to
open unknown worlds to the Sultan's mind, and Sulevman drank in
his Vezir's wisdom with assiduity. They lived together: their
meals were shared in common; even their beds were in the same
room. The Sultan gave his sister in marriage to the sailor's 
son, and Ibrahim was at the summit of power."
Turkey, Story of Nations series, p. 174.
T. S. BUCKINGHAM, in his "Travels in Assyria, Media and
Persia," speaking of his guide whom he had engaged at
Bagdad, and who was supposed to have left his heart behind him
in that city, says:
" Amidst all this I was at a loss to conceive how the Dervish
could find much enjoyment [in the expedition] while laboring under
the strong passion which I supposed he must then be feeling for
the object of his affections at Bagdad, whom he had quitted with
so much reluctance. What was my surprise, however, on seeking
an explanation of this seeming inconsistency, to find it was the
son, and not the daughter, of his friend Elias who held so powerful
a hold on his heart. I shrank back from the confession as a man
would recoil from a serpent on which he had unexpectedly trodden
. . . but in answer to enquiries naturally suggested by the subject
he declared he would rather suffer death than do the slightest
harm to so pure, so innocent, so heavenly a creature as this....
" I took the greatest pains to ascertain by a severe and
minute investigation, how far it might be possible to doubt of
the purity of the passion by which this Affgan Dervish was possessed,
and whether it deserved ta be classed with that  described
as prevailing among the ancient Greeks; and the result fully satisfied
me that both were the same. Ismael was, however, surprised beyond
measure when I assured him that such a feeling was not known at
all among the peoples of Europe."
Travels, Etc., 2nd edition, vol. I, p 159.
" The Dervish added a striking instance of the force of these
attachments, and the sympathy which was felt in the sorrows to
which they led, by the following fact from his own history. The
place of his residence, and of his usual labor, was near the bridge
of the Tigris, at the gate of the Mosque of the Vizier. While
he sat here, about five or six years since, surrounded by several
of his friends who came often to enjoy his conversation and beguile
the tedium of his work, he observed, passing among the crowd,
a young and beautiful Turkish boy, whose eyes met his, as if by
destiny, and they remained fixedly gazing on each other for some
time. The boy, after ' blushing like the first hue of a summer
morning,' passed on, frequently turning back to look on the person
who had regarded him so ardently. The Dervish felt his heart '
revolve within him,' for such was his expression, and a cold sweat
came across his brow. He hung his head upon his graving-tool in
dejection, and excused himself to those about him by saying he
felt suddenly ill. Shortly afterwards the boy returned, and after
walking to and fro several times, drawing nearer and nearer, as
if  under the influence of some attracting charm, he came
up to his observer and said, ' Is it really true, then, that you
love me? ' ' This,' said Ismael, ' was a dagger in my heart; I
could make no reply.' The friends who were near him, and now saw
all explained, asked him if there had been any previous acquaintance
existing between them. He assured them that they had never seen
each other before. ' Then,' they replied, ' such an event must
be from God.'
" The boy continued to remain for a while with this party,
told with great frankness the name and rank of his parents, as
well as the place of his residence, and promised to repeat his
visit on the following day. He did this regularly for several
months in succession, sitting for hours by the Dervish, and either
singing to him or asking him interesting questions, to beguile
his labors, until as Ismael expressed himself, ' though they were
still two bodies they became one soul.' The youth at length fell
sick, and was confined to his bed, during which time his lover,
Ismael, discontinued entirely his usual occupations and abandoned
himself completely to the care of his beloved. He watched the
changes of his disease with more than the anxiety of a parent,
and never quitted his bedside, night or day. Death at length separated
them; but even when the stroke came the Dervish could not be prevailed
on to quit the corpse. He constantly visited the grave that contained
the remains of all he held dear on  earth, and planting myrtles
and flowers there after the manner of the East, bedewed them daily
with his tears. His friends sympathized powerfully in his distress,
which he said ' continued to feed his grief ' until he pined away
to absolute illness, and was near following the fate of him whom
Ibid, p. 160.
"From all this, added to many other examples of a similar
kind, related as happening between persons who had often been
pointed out to me in Arabia and Persia, I could no longer doubt
the existence in the East of an affection for male youths, of
as pure and honorable a kind as that which is felt in Europe for
those of the other sex . . . and it would be as unjust to suppose
that this necessarily implied impurity of desire as to contend
that no one could admire a lovely countenance and a beautiful
form in the other sex, and still be inspired with sentiments of
the most Dure and honorable nature towards the object of his admiration."
Ibid, p. 163.
"One powerful reason why this passion may exist in the East,
while it is quite unknown in the West, is probably the seclusion
of women in the former, and the freedom of access to them in the
latter.... Had they [the Asiatics] the unrestrained intercourse
which we enjoy with such superior beings as the virtuous and accomplished
females of our own country they would find nothing in nature so
deserving of their love as these."
Ibid, p. 165.
V: THE RENAISSANCE AND MODERN TIMES
 WITH the Renaissance, and the impetus it gave at that time
to the study of Greek and Roman models, the exclusive domination
of Christianity and the Church was broken. A literature of friendship
along classic lines began to spring up. Montaigne (b. 1533)
was saturated with classic learning. His essays were doubtless
largely formed upon the model of Plutarch. His friendship with
Stephen de la Boetie was evidently of a romantic and absorbing
character. It is referred to in the following passage by William
Hazlitt; and the description of it occupies a large part of Montaigne's Essay on Friendship.
" The most important event of his counsellor's life at Bordeaux
was the friendship which he there formed with Stephen de la Boetie,
an affection which makes a streak of light in modern biography
almost as beautiful as that left us by Lord Brook and Sir Philip
Sydney. Our essayist and his friend esteemed, before they saw,
each other. La Boetie had written a little work [" De la
Servitude Volontaire."] in which Montaigne recognized sentiments
congenial with his own, and which indeed bespeak a soul formed
in the mould of classic times. Of Montaigne, le Boetie had also
heard accounts, which made him eager to behold him, and at length
they met at a large entertainment given by one of the magistrates
of Bordeaux. They saw and loved, and were thenceforward all in
all to each other. The picture that Montaigne in his essays draws
of this friendship is in the highest degree beautiful and touching;
nor does la Boetie's idea of what is due to this sacred bond betwixt
soul and soul fall far short of the grand perception which filled
the exalted mind of his friend.... Montaigne married at the age
of 33, but as he informs us, not of his own wish or choice. '
Might I have had my wish,' says he, ' I would not have married
Wisdom herself if she would have had me."
Life of Montaigne, by Wm. Hazlitt.
The following is from Montaigne's Essay, bk. I, ch. XXVII
" As to marriage, besides that it is a covenant, the making of which is only free, but the continuance in it forced and compelled,
having another dependence than that of our own free will, and
a bargain moreover commonly contracted to other ends, there happen
a thousand intricacies in it to unravel, enough to break the thread,
and to divert the current, of a lively affection: whereas 
friendship has no manner of business or traffic with anything
but itself.... For the rest, what we commonly call friends and
friendships are nothing but an acquaintance and connection, contracted
either by accident or upon some design, by means of which there
happens some little intercourse betwixt our souls: but, in the
friendship I speak of, they mingle and melt into one piece, with
so universal a mixture that there is left no more sign of the
seam by which they were first conjoined. If any one should importune
me to give a reason why I loved him [Stephen de la Boetie] I feel
it could no otherwise be expressed than by making answer, 'Because
it was he; because it was I.' There is, beyond what I am able
to say, I know not what inexplicable and inevitable power that
brought on this union. We sought one another long before we met,
and from the characters we heard of one another, which wrought
more upon our affections than in reason mere reports should do,
and, as I think, by some secret appointment of heaven; we embraced
each other in our names, and at our first meeting, which was accidentally
at a great city entertainment, we found ourselves so mutually
pleased with one another-we became at once mutually so endeared-that
thenceforward nothing was so near to us as one another. "
Common friendships will admit of division, one may love the beauty
of this, the good humorof that person, the liberality of a third,
the  paternal affection of a fourth, the fraternal love of
a fifth, and so on. But this friendship that possesses the whole
soul, and there rules and sways with an absolute sovereignty,
can admit of no rival.... In good earnest, if I compare all the
rest of my life with the four years I had the happiness to enjoy
the sweet soclety of this excellent man, 'tis nothing but smoke,
but an obscure and tedious night. From the day that I lost him
I have only led a sorrowful and languishing life; and the very
pleasures that present themselves to me, instead of administering
anything of consolation, double my affliction for his loss. We
were halves throughout, and to that degree that, methinks, by
outliving him I defraud him of his part."
PHILIP SIDNEY, born 1554, was remarkable for his strong
personal attachments. Chief among his allies were his school-mate
and distant relative, Fulke Greville (born in the same
year as himself), and his college friend Edward Dyer (also about
his own age). He wrote youthful verses to both of them. The following,
according to the fashion of the age, are in the form of an invocation
to the pastoral god Pan-
" Only for my two loves' sake,
In whose love I pleasure take;
Only two do me delight
With their ever-pleasing sight;
 Of all men to thee retaining
Grant me with these two remaining."
An interesting friendship existed also between Sidney and the
well-known French Protestant, Hubert Languet-many years
his senior-whose conversation and correspondence helped much in
the formation of Sidney's character. These two had shared together
the perils of the massacre of S. Bartholomew, and had both escaped
from France across the Rhine to Germany, where they lived in close
intimacy at Frankfort for a length of time; and after this a warm
friendship and steady correspondence-varied by occasional meetings
-continued between the two until Languet's death. Languet had
been Professor of Civil Law at Padua, and from 1550 forwards was
recognized as one of the leading political agents of the Protestant
"The elder man immediately discerned in Sidney a youth of
no common quality, and the attachment he conceived for him savored
of romance. We possess a long series of Latin letters from Languet
to his friend, which breathe the tenderest spirit of affection,
mingled with wise counsel and ever watchful thought for the young
man's higher interests.... There must have been something inexplicably
attractive in his [Sidney's]  person and his genius at this
time; for the tone of Languet's correspondence can only be matched
by that of Shakespeare in the sonnets written for his unknown
Sir Philip Sidney, English Men of Letters Series, pp. 27,
Of this relation Fox Bourne says:
" No love-oppressed youth can write with more earnest passion
and more fond solicitude, or can be troubled with more frequent
fears and more causeless jealousies, than Languet, at this time
55 years old, shows in his letters to Sidney, now 19."
IT may be appropriate here to introduce two or three sonnets from
Michel Angelo (b. 1475). Michel Angelo, one of the greatest, perhaps
the greatest, artist of the Italian Renaissance, was deeply imbued
with the Greek spirit. His conception of Love was close along
the line of Plato's. For him the body was the symbol, the expression,
the dwelling place of some divine beauty. The body may be loved,
but it should only be loved as a symbol, not for itself. Diotima
in the Symposium has said that in our mortal loves we first
come to recognize (dimly) the divine form of beauty which is Eternal.
Maximus Tyrius ( Dissert. xxvi. 8) commenting on this, confirms
it, saying that nowhere else but in the human form, " the
 loveliest and most intelligent of body creatures,"
does the light of divine beauty shine so clear. Michel Angelo
carried on the conception, gave it noble expression, and held
to it firmly in the midst of a society which was certainly willing
enough to love the body (or try to love it) merely for its own
sake. And Giordano Bruno (b. 1550) as a later date wrote as follows:
" All the loves-if they be heroic and not purely animal,
or what is called natural, and slaves to generation as instruments
in some way of nature-have for object the divinity, and tend towards
divine beauty, which first is communicated to, and shines in,
souls, and from them or rather through them is communicated to
bodies; whence it is that well-ordered affection loves the body
or corporeal beauty, insomuch as it is an indication of beauty
Gli Eroici Furori (dial. iii. It), trans. L. Williams.
THE labors of Von Scheffler and others have now pretty conclusively
established that the love-poems of Michel Angelo were for the
most part written to male friends-though this fact was disguised
by the pious frauds of his nephew, who edited them in the first
instance. Following are three of his sonnets, translated by J.
A.  Symonds. It will be seen that the last line of the first
contains a play on the name of his friend:
To Tommaso de' Cavalieri:
A CHE PIU DEBB'IO
"Why should I seek to ease intense desire
With still more tears and windy words of grief,
When heaven, or late or soon, sends no relief
To souls whom love hath robed around with fire.
Why need my aching heart to death aspire
When all must die? Nay death beyond belief
Unto these eyes would be both sweet and brief,
Since in my sum of woes all joys expire !
Therefore because I cannot shun the blow
I rather seek, say who must rule my breast,
Gliding between her gladness and her woe ?
If only chains and bands can make me blest,
No marvel if alone and bare I go
An armed Knight's captive and slave confessed."
NON VIDER GLI OCCHI MIEI
" No mortal thing enthralled these longing eyes
When perfect peace in thy fair face I found
But far within, where all is holy ground
My soul felt Love, her comrade of the skies:
For she was born with God in Paradise;
Nor all the shows of beauty shed around
 This fair false world her wings to earth have bound;
Unto the Love of Loves aloft she flier
Nay, things that suffer death quench not the fire
Of deathless spirits; nor eternity
Serves sordid Time, that withers all things rare.
Not love but lawless impulse is desire:
That slays the soul; our love makes still more fair
Our friends on earth, fairer in death on high."
VEGGIO NEL TUO BEL VISO
" From thy fair face I learn, O my loved lord,
That which no mortal tongue can rightly say;
The soul imprisoned in her house of clay,
Holpen by thee to God hath often soared:
And tho' the vulgar, vain, malignant horde
Attribute what their grosser wills obey,
Yet shall this fervent homage that I pay,
This love, this faith. pure iovs for us afford.
Lo, all the lovely things we find on earth,
Resemble for the soul that rightly sees,
That source of bliss divine which gave us birth:
Nor have we first fruits or remembrances
Of heaven elsewhere. Thus, loving loyally,
I rise to God and make death sweet bythee."
RICHARD BARNFIELD, one of the Elizabethan singers (b. 1574)
wrote a long poem, dedicated to "The Ladie Penelope Rich
" and entitled " The Affectionate Shepheard," which
he describes as an imitation of Virgil in the 2nd Eclogue, of
Alexis." I quote the first two Stanzas:
" Scarce had the morning starre hid from the light
Heaven's crimson Canopie with stars bespangled,
But I began to rue th' unhappy sight
Of that fair boy that had my heart intangled;
Cursing the Time, the Place, the sense, the sin;
I came, I saw, I view d, I slipped in.
If it be sin to love a sweet-fac'd Boy,
(Whose amber locks trust up in golden tramels
Dangle adown his lovely cheeks with joye
When pearle and flowers his faire haire enamels)
If it be sin to love a lovely Lad,
Oh then sinne I, for whom my soule is sad "
These stanzas, and the following three sonnets (also by Barnfield)
from a series addressed to a youth, give a fair sample of a considerable
class of Elizabethan verses, in which classic conceits were mingled
with a certain amount of real feeling:
" Two stars there are in one fair firmament
(Of some intitled Ganymede's sweet face)
Which other stars in brightness do disgrace,
As much as Po in cleanness passeth Trent.
Nor are they common-natur'd stars; for why,
These stars when other shine vaile their pure light,
And when all other vanish out of sight
They add a glory to the world's great eie:
By these two stars my life is only led,
In them I place my joy, in them my pleasure!
Love's piercing darts and Nature s precious treasure,
With their sweet food my fainting soul is fed:
Then when my sunne is absent from my sight
How can it chuse (with me) but be darke night? "
" Not Megabetes, nor Cleonymus
(Of whom great Plutarch makes such mention,
Praysing their faire with rare invention),
As Ganymede were halfe so beauteous.
They onely pleased the eies of two great kings,
But all the world at my love stands amazed,
Nor one that on his angel's face hath gazed,
But (ravisht with delight) him presents bring:
 Some weaning lambs, and some a suckling kyd
Some nuts, and fil-beards, others peares and plums;
Another with a milk-white heyfar comes;
As lately AEgon's man (Damcetas) did
But neither he nor all the Nymphs beside,
Can win my Ganymede with them t' abide."
"Ah no; nor I my selfe: tho' my pure love
(Sweete Ganymede) to thee hath still been pure,
And ev n tlll my last gaspe shall aie endure,
Could ever thy obdurate beuty move:
Then cease, oh goddesse sonne ( for sure thou art
A Goddesse sonne that can resist desire),
Cease thy hard heart, and entertain love's fire
Within thy sacred breast: by Nature's art.
And as I love thee more than any Creature
(Love thee, because thy beautie is divine,
Love thee, because my selfe, my soule, is thine:
Wholie devoted to thy lovely feature),
Even so of all the vowels, I and U
Are dearest unto me, as doth ensue."
FRANCIS BACON'S essay Of Friendship is known to
everybody. Notwithstanding the somewhat cold and pragmatic style
and genius of the author, the subject seems to inspire him with
a certain enthusiasm; and some good things are said.
" But we may go farther 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 scene 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 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, flower 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....
" 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 worketh two contrary effects, for
it redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halfs; 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."
Essay 27, Of Friendship.
SHAKESPEARE'S sonnets have been much discussed, and surprise
and even doubt have been expressed as to their having been addressed
(the first 126 of them) to a man friend; but no one who reads
them with open mind can well doubt this conclusion; nor be surprised
at it, who knows anything of Elizabethan life and literature.
" Were it not for the fact," says F. T. Furnivall, "
that many critics really deserving the name of Shakespeare students,
and not Shakespeare fools, have held the Sonnets to be merely
dramatic, I could not have conceived that poems so intensely and
evidently autobiographic and self-revealing, poems so one with
the spirit and inner meaning of Shakespeare's growth and life,
could ever have been conceived to be other than what they arethe
records of his own loves and fears."
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Some time too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, un trimmed;
 But they eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."
" A woman's face, with Nature's own hand painted,
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women's fashion;
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue, all hues in his controlling,
Which steals men's eyes, and women's souls amazeth;
And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
But since she pricked thee out for women's pleasure,
Mine be thy love, and thy love's use their treasure
To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,
Steal from his figure and no pace perceived;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion and mine eye may be deceived:
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred;
Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.
What's in the brain that ink may character
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what new to register,
That may express my love or thy dear merit?
Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,
I must, each day say o'er the very same,
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love's fresh case
Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
 But makes antiquity for aye his page,
Finding the first conceit of love there bred
Where time and outward form would show it dead.
That Shakespeare, when the drama needed it, could fully and warmly
enter into the devotion which one man may feel for another, as
well as into tragedy which such devotion may entail, is shown
in his Merchant of Venice by the figure of Antonio, over
whom from the first line of the play ("In sooth I know not
why I am so sad") there hangs a shadow of destiny.. The following
lines are from Act IV. Sc. 1
Antonio: Commend me to your honourable wife:
Tell her the process of Antonio's end;
Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death;
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge
Whether Bassanio had not once a love.
Repent but you that you shall lose your friend,
And he repents not that he pays your debt;
For if the Jew do cut but deep enough,
I'll pay it presently with all my heart.
Bassanio: Antonio, I am married to a wife
Which is as dear to me as life itself;
But life itself, my wife, and all the world,
Are not with me esteem'd above thy life:
 I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all
Here to this devil, to deliver you."
We may also, in this connection, quote his Henry the Fifth (act iv. scene 6) for the deaths of the Duke of York and the Earl
of Suffolk at the battle of Agincourt. Exeter, addressing Henry,
" Suffolk first died; and York, all haggled over,
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd,
And takes him by the beard, kisses the gashes
That bloodily did yawn upon his face;
He cries aloud,-' Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk!
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven:
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine; then fly abreast,
As in this glorious and well-foughten field
We kept together in our chivalry I '
Upon these words I came and cheered him up:
He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand,
And, with a feeble gripe, says, ' Dear my Lord,
Commend my service to my sovereign.'
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck
He threw his wounded arm, and kissed his lips;
And so, espoused to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love."
Shakespeare, with his generous many-sided nature was, as the Sonnets
seem to show, and as we should expect, capable of friendship,
passionate friendship, towards both men and women. Perhaps this
marks the highest reach of temperament. That there are cases in
which devotion to a manfriend altogether replaces the love of
the opposite sex is curiously shown by the following extract from Sir Thomas Browne:
" I never yet cast a true affection on a woman; but I have
loved my friend as I do virtue, my soul, my God.... I love my
friend before myself, and yet methinks I do not love him enough:
some few months hence my multiplied affection will make me believe
I have not loved him at all. When I am from him, I am dead till
I be with him; when I am with him, I am not satisfied, but would
be still nearer him.... This noble affection falls not on vulgar
and common constitutions, but on such as are marked for virtue:
he that can love his friend with this noble ardor, will in a competent
degree affect all."
Sir Thomas Browne, Religio Medici, 1642.
BEAUMONT and Fletcher are two names which time and immortal
friendship have sealed in one. Francis Beaumont was son of a judge,
and John Fletcher, who was some four or five years the elder of
the two, son of a bishop. The one went to Oxford, the other to
Cambridge. Both took to writing at an early age; they  probably
met at the Mermaid Tavern, about the year 1604, and a friendship
sprang up between them of the closest character. " The intimacy
which now commenced was one of singular warmth even for that romantic
age." (Chambers' Biog. Dict.) For many years they lived in
the same house as bachelors, writing plays together, and sharing
everything in common. Then in 16I3 Beaumont married, but died
in 16I6. Fletcher lived on unmarried, till 1625, when he died
of the plague.
J. St. L. Strachey, in his introduction to the works of Beaumont
and Fletcher in the Mermaid Series, says:
" In the whole range of English literature, search it from
Chaucer till to-day, there is no figure more fascinating or more
worthy of attention than ' the mysterious double personality '
of Beaumont and Fletcher. Whether we bow to the sentiment of the
first Editor, who, though he knew the secret of the poets, yet
since never parted while they lived ' conceived it not equitable
to ' separate their ashes,' and so refuse to think of them apart;
whether we adopt the legendary union of the comrade-poets who
dwelt on the Bankside, who lived and worked together, their thoughts
no less in common than the cloak and bed o'er which tradition
has grown fond; whether  we think of them as two minds so
married that to divorce or disunite them were a sacrilegious deed;
or whether we yield to the subtler influences of the critical
fancy, and delight to discover and explore each from its source,
the twin fountains of inspiration that feed the majestic stream
of song that flows through ' The Lost Aspatia's ' tragedy, etc....
whether we treat the poets as a mystery to which love and sympathy
are the initiation, or as a problem for the tests and reagents
of critical analysis to solve, the double name of Beaumont and
Fletcher will ever strike the fancy and excite the imagination
as does no other name in the annals of English song."
George Varley, in his Introduction to the works of B. and F. (London,
E. Moxon, I839), says:
" The story of their common life, which scandalizes some
biographers, contains much that is agreeable to me, as offering
a picture of perfect union whose heartiness excuses its homeliness
. . . but when critics would explain away the community of cloak
and clothes by accident or slander, methinks their fastidiousness
exceeds their good feeling."
Beaumont was a man of great personal beauty and charm. Ben Jonson
was much attracted to him. Fletcher delighted to do him honor
and to put his name first on their title page; though it is 
probable that Beaumont's share in the plays was the lesser one.
See following verses by Sir Aston Cokaine in the 1st Collection
of their works, published in 1647:
" In the large book of playes you late did print,
In Beaumont and in Fletcher's name, why in't
Did you not justice? Give to each his due?
For Beaumont of those many writ in few,
And Massinger in other few- the main
Being sole issues of sweet Fletcher's brain
But how came I, you ask, so much to know?
Fletcher's chief bosome-friend inform'd me so."
The following lines were written by Fletcher on the death of Beaumont:
" Come, sorrow, come I bring all thy cries,
All thy laments, and all thy weeping eyes I
Burn out, you living monuments of woe I
Sad, sullen griefs, now rise and overflowl
Virtue is dead;
Oh! cruel fatel
All youth is fled
All our laments too late
Oh, noble youth, to thy ne'er dying name
Oh, happy youth, to thy still growing fame,
To thy long peace in earth, this sacred knell
Our last loves ring-farewell, farewell, farewell !
Go, happy soul, to thy eternal birthl
And press his body lightly, gentle Earth."
And among the poems attributed to Francis Beaumont is one generally
supposed to be addressed to Fletcher, and speaking of an alliance
hidden from the world-of which the last five lines run:
" If when I die, physicians doubt
What caused my death, and these to view
Of all their judgments, which was true,
Rip up my heart; O, then I fear
The world will see thy picture there."
-though it is perhaps more probable that it was addressed to Beaumont
by Fletcher, and has accidentally found place among the former's
In the Maid's Tragedy by B. and F. (Act I.
Scene i.), we have Melantius speaking about his companion Amintor,
a young nobleman:
"All joys upon him I for he is my friend.
Wonder not that I call a man so young my friend:
His worth is great; radiant he is, and temperate;
And one that never thinks his life his own,
If his friend need it."
THE devotion of Vauvenargues to his friend De Seytres is immortalized by the eloge he wrote on the occasion of the latter's
death. V., a youth of noble family, born in S. France in 1715,
entered military service and the regiment of the King at an early
age. He seems to have been a gentle, wise character, much beloved
by his comrades. During the French invasion of Bohemia, in 174I,
when he was about 26, he met Hippolyte de Seytres, who belonged
to the same regiment, and who was only 18 years of age. A warm
friendship sprang up between the two, but lasted for a brief time
only. DeSeytres died during the privations of the terrible Siege
of Prague in 1742. Vauvenargues escaped, but with the loss of
his health, as well as of his friend. He took to literature, and
wrote some philosophic works, and became correspondent and friend
of Voltaire, but died in 1747 at the early age of 32. In his eloge
he speaks of his friend as follows-
" By nature full of grace, his movements natural, his manners
frank, his features noble and grave, his expression sweet and
penetrating- one could not look upon him with indifference. From
the first his loveable exterior won all hearts in his favor, and
whoever was in the position to know his character could not but
admire the beauty of his disposition. Never did he despise or
envy or hate any one. He understood all the passions and opinions,
even the most singular, that the world blames. They did not surprise
him: he  penetrated their cause, and found in his own reflexions
the means of explaining them."
" And so Hippolyte," he continues, i' I was destined
to be the survivor in our friendship-just when I was hoping that
it would mitigate all the sufferings and ennui of my life even
to my latest breath. At the moment when my heart, full of security,
placed blind confidence in thy strength and youth, and abandoned
itself to gladnessO Miseryl in that moment a mighty hand was extinguishing
the sources of life in thy blood. Death was creeping into thy
heart, and harboring in thy bosom I . . . O pardon me once more;
for never canst thou have doubted the depth of my attachment.
I loved thee before I was able to know thee. I have never loved
but thee . . . I was ignorant of thy very name and life, but my
heart adored thee, spoke with thee, saw thee and sought thee in
solitude. Thou knewest me but for a moment; and when we did become
acquainted, already a thousand times had I paid homage in secret
to thy virtues.... Shade worthy of heaven, whither hast thou fled!
Do my sighs reach thee? I tremble-O abyss profound, O woe, O death,
O grave I Dark veil and viewless night, and mystery of Eternityl
(It is said that Vauvenargues thought more of this memorial inscription
to his friend than of any other of his works, and constantly worked
at and perfected it.)
WILLIAM PENN ( b. 1644 ) the founder of Pennsylvania, and
of Philadelphia, "The city of brotherly love " was a
great believer in friendship. He says in his Fruits of Solitude:
" A true friend unbosoms freely, advises justly, assists
readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, defends courageously,
and continues a friend unchangeably.... In short, choose a friend
as thou dost a wife, till death separate you. . . . Death cannot
kill what never dies. Nor can spirits ever be divided that love
and live in the same Divine Principle; the Root and Record of
their friendship.... This is the comfort of friends, that though
they may be said to die, yet their friendship and society are,
in the best sense, ever present, because immortal."
IT may be worth while here to insert two passages from Macaulay's History of England. The first deals with the remarkable
intimacy between the Young Prince William of Orange and
" a gentleman of his household " named Bentinck. William's
escape from a malignant attack of small-pox
" was attributed partly to his own singular equanimity, and
partly to the intrepid and indefatigable friendship of Bentinck.
From the hands of  Bentinck alone William took food and medicineby
Bentinck alone William was lifted from his bed and laid down in
it. ' Whether Bentinck slept or not while I was ill,' said William
to Temple with great tenderness, ' I know not. But this I know,
that through sixteen days and nights, I never once called for
anything but that Bentinck was instantly at my side.' Before the
faithful servant had entirely performed this task, he had himself
caught the contagion." ( But he recovered. )
History of England, ch. vii.
The second passage describes the devotion of the Princess Anne
(daughter of James II and afterwards Queen Anne) to Lady Churchill-a
devotion which had considerable influence on the political situation.
" It is a common observation that differences of taste, understanding,
and disposition are no impediments to friendship, and that the
closest intimacies often exist between minds, each of which supplies
what is wanting in the other. Lady Churchill was loved and even
worshipped by Anne. The princess could not live apart from the
object of her romantic fondness. She married, and was a faithful
and even an affectionate wife; but Prince George, a dull man,
whose chief pleasures were derived from his dinner and his bottle,
acquired over her no intluence comparable to that exercised by
her female friend, and soon gave him  self up with stupid
patience to the dominion of that vehement and commanding spirit
by which his wife was governed."
History of England, ch vii
THAT the tradition of Greek thought was not quite obliterated
in England by the Puritan movement is shown by the writings of
Archbishop Potter, who speaks with approval of friendship as followed
among the Greeks, " not only in private, but by the public
allowance and encouragement of their laws; for they thought there
could be no means more effectual to excite their youth to noble
undertakings, nor any greater security to their commonwealths,
than this generous passion." He then quotes Athenaeus, saying
that " free commonwealths and all those states that consulted
the advancement of their own honor, seem to have been unanimous
in establishing laws to encourage and reward it." John Potter, Antiquities of Greece, 1698.
The eighteenth century however in England, with its leaning towards
formalism, was perhaps not favorable to the understanding of the
Greek spirit. At any rate there is not much to show in that direction.
In Germany the classical tradition in art was revived by Raphael
Mengs, while  Winckelmann, the art critic, showed
himself one of the best interpreters of the Hellenic world that
has ever lived. His letters, too, to his personal friends, breathe
a spirit of the tenderest and most passionate devotion: "
Friendship," he says, "without love is mere acquaintanceship."
Winckelmann met, in 1762, in Rome, a young nobleman, Reinhold
von Berg, to whom he became deeply attached:
" Almost as first there sprang up, on Winckelmann's side,
an attachment as romantic, emotional and passionate as love. In
a letter to his friend he said, ' From the first moment an indescribable
attraction towards you, excited by something more than form and
feature, caused me to catch an echo of that harmony which passes
human understanding and which is the music of the everlasting
concord of things.... I was aware of the deep consent of our spirits,
the instant I saw you.' And in a later letter: ' No name by which
I might call you would be sweet enough or sufficient for my love;
all that I could say would be far too feeble to give utterance
to my heart and soul. Truly friendship came from heaven and was
not created by mere human impulses.... My one friend, I love you
more than any living thing, and time nor chance nor age can ever
lessen this love."
Ludwig Frey, Der Eros und die Kunst, Leipzig, 1898, p 211
 GOETHE, that universal genius, has some excellent thoughts
on this subject; speaking of Winckelmann he says:
"The affinities of human beings in Antiquity give evidence
of an important distinction between ancient and modern times.
The relation to women, which among us has become so tender and
full of meaning, hardly aspired in those days beyond the limits
of vulgar necessity. The relation of parents to their children
seems in some respects to have been tenderer. More to them than
all other feelings was the friendship between persons of the male
sex (though female friends, too, like Chloris and Thyia, were
inseparable, even in Hades). In these cases of union between two
youths, the passionate fulfilment of loving duties, the joys of
inseparableness, the devotion of one for the other, the unavoided
companionship in death, fill us with astonishment; indeed one
feels oneself ashamed when poets, historians, philosophers and
orators overwhelm us with Legends, anecdotes, sentiments and ideas,
containing such meaning and feeling. Winckelmann felt himself
born for a friendship of this kind-not only as capable of it,
but in the highest degree in need of it; he became conscious of
his true self only under the form of friendship."
Goethe on Winckelmann.
 Some of Goethe's poems further illustrate this subject.
In the Saki Nameh of his West-Oestlichen Divan he has followed
the style of a certain class of Persian love-songs. The following
poem is from a Cupbearer to his Master:
" In the market-place appearing
None thy Poet-fame dispute;
I too gladly hear thy singing,
I too hearken when thou'rt mute.
Yet I love thee, when thou printest
Kisses not to be forgot,
Best of all, for words may perish,
But a kiss lives on in thought.
Rhymes on rhymes fair meaning carry,
Thoughts to think bring deeper joy;
Sing to other folk, but tarry
Silent with thy serving-boy."
JOHANN GOTTFRIED VON HERDER (1744-1803 ) as theologian,
philosopher, friend of Goethe, Court preacher at Weimar, and author
of Ideas on the Philosophy of History, has had a great
and enduring reputation. The following extract is from the just-mentioned
HERDER ON GREEK FRIENDSHIP
" Never has a branch born finer fruit than that little branch
of Olive, Ivy, and Pine, which was the victor's crown among the
Greeks. It gave to the young men good looks, good health, and
good spirits; it made their limbs nimble, graceful and well-formed;
in their souls it lighted the first sparks of the desire for good
name, the love of fame even, and stamped on them the inviolable
temper of men who live for their city and their country. Finally,
what was most precious, it laid the foundation in their characters
of that predilection for male society and friendship which so
markedly dlstinguishes the Greeks. In Greece, woman was not the
one prize of life for which the young man fought and strove; the
loveliest Helen could only mould the spirit of one Paris, even
though her beauty might be the coveted obect of ali manly valor.
The feminine sex, despite the splendid examples of every virtue
that it exhibited in Greece, as elsewhere, remained there only
a secondary object of the manly life. The thoughts of aspirlng
youths reached towards something higher. The bond of friendship
which they knitted among themselves or with grown men, compelled
them into a school which Aspasia herself could hardly have introduced
them to; so that in many of the states of Greece manly love became
surrounded and accompanied by those intelligent and educational
influences, that permanence of character and devotion, whose sentiment
 and meaning we read of in Plato almost as if in a romance
from some far planet.
SCHILLER, the great German poet, had an enthusiastic appreciation
of friendship-love, as can be seen from his poems, " Freundschaft
" and " Die Burgschaft," and others of his writings.
His tragedy Don Karlos turns upon the death of one friend for
the sake of another. The young Infanta of Spain, Don Karlos, alienated
by the severities of his father, Phillip II, enters into plots
and intrigues, from the consequences of which he is only saved
by his devoted companion, the Marquis of Posa, who, by making
himself out the guilty party, dies in the Prince's stead. Early
in the play (Act I., Scene ii.) the attachment between the two
Oh, if indeed 'tis true -
What my heart says-that out of millions, thou
Hast been decreed at last to understand me;
If it be true that Nature all-creative
In moulding Karlos copied Roderick,
And strung the tender chords of our two souls
Harmonious in the morning of our lives;
If even a tear that eases thus my sorrow
Is dearer to thee than my father's favor
Marquis of Posa.
Oh, dearer than the world !
So low, so low
Have I now fallen, have become so needy,
That of our early childish years together
I must remind thee-must indeed entreat
Thy payment of those long-forgotten debts
Which thou, while yet in sailor garb, contractedst;
When thou and I, two boys of venturous habit,
Grew up, and side by side, in brotherhood.
No grief oppressed me then-save that thy spirit
Seemed so eclipsing mine-until at length
I boldly dared to love thee without limit,
Since to be like thee was beyond my dreams.
Then I began, with myriad tenderness
And brother-love most loyal, to torment thee;
And thou, proud heart, returned it all so coldly.
Oft would I stand there-and thou saw'st it not !
And hot and heavy tear-drops from my eyes
Hung, when perchance, thou, Roderick, hastening past me,
Would'st throw thy arms about some lesser playmate.
" Why only these? " I cried, and wept aloud
Am I not also worthy of thy heart? "
But thou  So cold and serious before me kneeling,
" Homage " thou said'st, " to the King's son is
A truce, O Prince, to all these tales of childhood,
Thy make my cheeks red even now with shame !
And this from thee indeed I did not merit.
Contemn thou could'st, and even rend my heart,
But ne'er estrange. Three times thou did'st repulse
The young Prince from thee; thrice again he came
As suppliant to thee-to entreat thy love,
And urgently to press his love upon thee.
But that which Karlos could not, chance effected.
(The story is then related of how as a boy he took on himself
the blame for a misdemeanor of Roderick's, and was severely punished
by his royal father)
Under the pitiless strokes my blood flowed red;
I looked on thee and wept not. But the King
Was angered by my boyish heroism,
And for twelve terrible hours emprisoned me
In a dark dungeon, to repent thereof.
So proud and fierce v~as my determination
By Roderick to be beloved. Thou cam'st,
And loudly weeping at my feet did'st fall,
Yes, yes," did'st cry, " my pride is overcome.
One day; when thou art king, I will repay thee."
Marquis (giving his hand.)
I will so, Karl. My boyish affidavit
As man I now renew; I will repay;
My hour will also strike, Perchane.
(The hour comes, when Roderick takes on himself the blame for
an intrigue of Don Karlos with the Queen and William of Orange.
He writes a letter to the latter, and allows it purposely to fall
into the King's hands. He is assassinated by order of the King;
and the following speech over his body (Act V., Scene iv.) is
made to the King by Don Karlos, who thenceforth abjures all love
except for the memory of his friend.)
Karlos (to the King.)
The dead man was my friend. And would you know
Wherefore he died? He perished for my sake.
Yes, Sire, for we were brothers I brothers by
 A nobler chain than Nature ever forges.
Love was his glorious life-career. And love
For me, his great, his glorious death. Mine was he.
What time his lowly bearing puffed you up,
What time his gay persuasive eloquence
Made easy sport of your proud giant-spirit.
You thought to dominate him quite-and were
The obedient creature of his deeper plans.
That I am prisoner, is the schemed result
Of his great friendship. To achieve my safety
He wrote that letter to the Prince of Orange -
O God! the first, last falsehood of his life.
To rescue me he went to meet the Fate
Which he has suffered. With your gracious favors
You loaded him. He died for me. On him
You Pressed the favors of your heart and friendship.
Your sceptre was the plaything of his hands;
He threw it from him. and for me he died.
THERE is little, I believe, in the historical facts relating to
Don Karlos to justify this tale of friendship; but there seems
great probability that the incidents were transferred by 
Schiller from the history of Frederick the Great, of Prussia,
when a youth at his father's court. The devotion that existed
between the young Frederick and Lieut. Von Katte, the anger and
severities of the royal parent, the supposed conspiracy, the imprisonment
of Frederick, and the execution of Von Katte, are all reproduced
in Schiller's play.
Von Katte was a young man of good family and strange but
charming personality, who, as soon as he came to Court, being
three or four years older than Frederick, exercised a strong attraction
upon the latter. The two were always together, and finally, enraged
by the harshness of the royal father, they plotted flight to England.
They were arrested, and Katte, accused of treason to the throne,
was condemned to death. That this sentence was pronounced, not
so much for political reasons, as in order to do despite to the
affection between him and the Crown Prince, is strongly suggested
by the circumstances. Von Katte was sent from a distance in order
to be executed at Custrin, in the fortress where the Prince was
confined, and with instructions that the latter should witness
his execution. Carlyle, in his life of Frederick II, says:
" Katte wore, by order, a brown dress exactly like the Prince's;
the Prince is already brought down into a lower room to see Katte
as he passes (to see Katte die has been the royal order, but they
smuggled that into abeyance), and Katte knows he shall see him."
[Besserer, the chaplain of the Garrison, quoted by Carlyle, describing
the scene as they approached the Castle, says: ' Here, after long
wistful looking about, he did get sight of his beloved Jonathan
at a window in the Castle, from whom, he, with politest and most
tender expression, speaking in French, took leave, with no little
emotion of sorrow.] " Pardonnez moi, mon cher Katte,"
cried Friedrich. " La mort est douce pour un si aimable Prince,"
said Katte, and fared on; round some angle of the Fortress it
appears; not in sight of Friedrich, who sank in a faint, and had
seen his last glimpse of Katte in this world."
Life of Frederick II, vol. 2, p. 489.
Frederick's grief and despair were extreme for a time. Then his
royal father found him a wife, in the Princess Elizabeth of Brunswick,
whom he obediently married, but in whom he showed little interest-their
meetings growing rarer and rarer till at last they became merely
formal. Later, and after his accession, he spent most of his leisure
time when away from the cares of war and political reorganization,
at his retreat at Sans-Souci, afar  from feminine society
(a fact which provoked Voltaire's sarcasms), and in the society
of his philosophic and military friends, to many of whom he was
much attached. Von Kupffer has unearthed from his poems printed
at Sans-Souci in 1750 the following, addressed to Count Von Kaiserlinck,
a favorite companion, on whom he bestowed the by-name of Cesarion:
" Cesarion, let us keep unspoiled
Our faith, and be true friends,
And pair our lives like noble Greeks,
And to like noble ends !
That friend from friend may never hide
A fault through weakness or thro' pride,
Or sentiment that cloys
Thus gold in fire the brighter glows,
And far more rare and precious grows,
Refined from all alloys."
There is also in the same collection a long and beautiful ode
" To the shades of Cesarion," of which the following
are a few lines:
" O God I how hard the word of Fate!
Cesarion dead I His happy days
Death to the grave has consecrate.
His charm I mourn and gentle grace.
He's dead-my tender, faithful mate !
A thousand daggers pierce my beart:
 It trembles, torn with grief and pain.
He's gone! the dawn comes not again!
Thy grave's the goal of my heart's strife;
Holy shall thy remembrance be;
To thee I poured out love in life;
And love in death I vow to thee."
ELISAR VON KUPFFER, in the introduction to his Anthology,
from which I have already quoted a few extracts, speaks at some
length on the great ethical and political significance of a loving
comradeship. He says:
" In open linkage and attachment to each other ought youth
to rejoice in youth. In attachment to another, one loses the habit
of thinking only of self. In the love and tender care and instruction
that the youth receives from his lover he learns from boyhood
up to recognize the good of self-sacrifice and devotion; and in
the love which he shows, whether in the smaller or the greater
offerings of an intimate friendship, he accustoms himself to self-sacrifice
for another. In this way the young man is early nurtured into
a member of the Community-to a useful member and not one who has
self and only self in mind. And how much closer thus does unit
grow to unit, till indeed the whole comes to feel itself a whole
I . . .
" The close relationship between two men has this further
result-that folk instinctively and  not without reason judge
of one from the other; so that should the one be worthy and honorable,
he naturally will be anxious that the other should not bring a
slur upon him. Thus there arises a bond of moral responsibility
with regard to character. And what can be of more advantage to
the community than that the individual members should feel responsible
for each other ? Surely it is just that which constitutes national
sentiment, and the strength of a people, namely, that it should
form a complete whole in itself, where each unit feels locked
and linked with the others. Such unions may be of the greatest
social value, as in the case of the family. And it is especially
in the hour of danger that the effect of this unity of feeling
shows itself; for where one man stands or falls with another,
where glad self-sacrifice, learnt in boyhood, becomes so to speak,
a warm-hearted instinct, there is developed a power of incalculable
import, a power that folly alone can hold cheap. Indeed, the unconquerable
force of these unions has already been practically shown, as in
the Sacred Band of the Thebans who fought to its bitter end the
battle of Leuctra; and, psychologically speaking, the explanation
is most natural; for where one Derson feels himself united, body
and soul to another, is it not natural that he should put forth
all his powers in order to help the other, in order to manifest
his love for him in every way? If any one cannot or will not perceive
this we may indeed well doubt either  the intelligence of
his head or the morality of his heart."
FRIEDRICH RUCKERT (1788 1866), Professor of Oriental Literature
in Berlin, wrote verses in memory of his friend Joseph Kopp:
" How shall I know myself without thee,
Who knew myself as part of thee?
I only know one half is vanished,
And half alone is left, of me.
Never again my proper mind
I'll know; for thee I'll never find.
" Never again, out there in space,
I'll find thee; but here, deep within.
I see, tho' not in dreams, thy face;
My waking eyes thy presence win,
And all my thought and poesy
Are but my offering to thee.
" My Jonathan, now hast thou fled,
And I to weep thy loss remain;
If David's harp might grace my hands
O might it help to ease my pain !
My friend, my Joseph, true of faith,
Tn life so loved-so loved in death."
And the following are by Joseph Kitir, an Austrian poet:-
ROUGH WEATHER FRIENDS
" Not where breathing roses bless
The night, or summer airs caress;
Not in Nature's sacred grove;
No, but at a tap-room table,
Sitting in the window-gable
Did we plight our troth of love.
" No fair lime tree's roofing shade
By the spring wind gently swayed
Formed for us a bower of bliss;
No, stormbound, but love-intent,
There against the damp wall bent
We two bartered kiss tor kiss.
"Therefore shalt thou, Love so rare
(Child of storms and wintry air)
Not like Spring's sweet fragrance fade.
Even in sorrow thou shalt flourish,
Frost shall not make thee afraid,
And in storms thou shalt not perish."
COUNT AUGUST VON PLATEN (born at Ansbach in Bavaria, 1796)
was in respect of style one of the most finished and perfect of
German poets. His nature (which was refined and self-controlled)
led him from the first to form the most romantic attachments with
men. He freely and openly expressed his feelings in his verses;
of which a great number are practically  love-poems addressed
to his friends. They include a series of twenty-six sonnets to
one of his friends, Karl Theodor German. Of these Raffalovich
says (Uranisme, Lyons, 1 896, p. 35 I ):
" These sonnets to Karl Theodor German are among the most
beautiful in German literature. Platen in the sonnet surpasses
all the German poets, including even Goethe. In them perfection
of form, and poignancy or wealth of emotion are illustrated to
perfection. The sentiment is similar to that of the sonnets of
Shakespeare (with their personal note), and the form that of the
Italian or French sonnet."
Platen, however, was unfortunate in his affairs of the heart,
and there is a refrain of suffering in his poems which comes out
characteristically in the following sonnet:
"Since pain is life and life is only pain,
Why he can feel what I have felt before,
Who seeing joy sees it again no more
The instant he attempts his joy to gain;
Who, caught as in a labyrinth unaware,
The outlet from it never more can find;
Whom love seems only for this end to bind-
In order to hand over to Despair;
Who prays each dizzy lightning-flash to end him,
Each star to reel his thread of life away
 With all the torments which his heart are rending;
And envies even the dead their pillow of clay,
Where Love no more their foolish brains can steal.
He who knows this, knows me, and what I feel."
One of Platen's sonnets deals with an incident, referred to in
an earlier page, namely, the death of the poet Pindar in the theatre,
in the arms of his young friend Theoxenos:
"Oh ! when I die, would I might fade away
Like the pale stars, swiftly and silently,
Would that death's messenger might come to
As once it came to Pindar-so they say
Not that I would in Life, or in my Verse
With him, the great Incomparable, compare;
Only his Death, my friend, I ask to share:
But let me now the gracious tale rehearse.
Long at the play, hearing sweet Harmony,
He sat; and wearied out at last, had lain
His cheek upon his dear one's comely knee;
Then when it died away-the choral strain-
He who thus cushioned him said: Wake and come
But to the Gods above he had gone home."
WAGNER and LUDWIG
THE correspondence of Richard Wagner discloses the existence of
a very warm friendship between him and Ludwig II, the young king
of Bavaria. Ludwig as a young man appears  to have been a
very charming personality, good looking, engaging and sympathetic;
every one was fond of him. Yet his tastes led him away from "society,"
into retirement, and the companionship of Nature and a few chosen
friends-often of humble birth. Already at the age of fifteen he
had heard Lohengrin, and silently vowed to know the composer.
One of his first acts when he came to the throne was to send for
Wagner; and from the moment of their meeting a personal intimacy
sprang up between them, which in due course led to the establishment
of the theatre at Bayreuth, and to the liberation of Wagner's
genius to the world. Though the young king at a later time lost
his reason-probably owing to his over-sensitive emotional nature-this
does not detract from the service that he rendered to Music by
his generous attachment. How Wagner viewed the matter may be gathered
from Wagner's letters.
"He, the king, loves me, and with the deep feeling and glow
of a first love; he perceives and knows everything about me, and
understands me as my own soul. He wants me to stay with him always....
I am to be free and my own master, not his music-conductor-only
my very self and his friend."
Letters to Mme. Eliza Wille, 4th, May, 1864.
 " It is true that I have my young king who genuinely
adores me. You cannot form an idea of our relations. I recall
one of the dreams of my youth. I once dreamed that Shakespeare
was alive: that I really saw and spoke to him: I can never forget
the impression that dream made on me. Then I would have wished
to see Beethoven, though he was already dead. Something of the
same kind must pass m the mind of this lovable man when with me.
He says he can hardly believe that he really possesses me. None
can read without astonishment, without enchantment, the letters
he writes to me."
Ibid, 9th Sept., 1864.
"I hope now for a long period to gain strength again by quiet
work. This is made possible for me by the love of an unimaginably
beautiful and thoughtful being: it seems that it had to be even
so greatly gifted a man and one so destined for me, as this young
King of Bavaria. What he is to me no one can imagine. My guardian!
In his love I completely rest and fortify myself towards the completion
of my task."
Letter to his brother-in-law, 10th Sept., 1865.
BELOW are some of the actual letters of Ludwig to Wagner. (See
Prof. C. Beyer's book, Ludwig II, Konig von Bayern.)
" Dear Friend, O I see clearly that your sufferings are deep-rootedl
You tell me, beloved friend, that you have looked deep into the
hearts  of men, and seen there the villainy and corruption
that dwells within. Yes, I believe you, and I can well understand
that moments come to you of disgust with the human race; yet always
will we remember (will we not, beloved?) that there are yet many
noble and good people, for whom it is a real pleasure to live
and work. And yet you say you are no use for this world I-I pray
you, do not despair, your true friend conjures you; have Courage:
' Love helps us to bear and suffer all things, love brings at
last the victor's crownl ' Love recognizes, even in the most corrupt,
the germ of good; she alone overcomes all -Live on, darling of
my soul. I recall your own words to you. To learn to forget is
a noble workl-Let us be careful to hide the faults of others;
it was for all men indeed that the Saviour died and suffered.
And now, what a pity that ' Tristan ' can not be presented to-day;
will it perhaps to-morrow? Is there any chance?
Unto death, your faithful friend,
15th May, 1865. LUDWIG."
" Purschling, 4th Aug., 1865.
" My one, my much-loved Friend,-You express to me your
sorrow that, as it seems to you, each one of our last meetings
has only brought pain and anxiety to me.-Must I then remind my
loved one of Brynhilda's words?-Not only in gladness and enjoyment,
but in suffering also Love makes man blest.... When does my 
friend think of coming to the ' Hill-Top,' to the woodland's aromatic
breezes?-Should a stay in that particular spot not altogether
suit, why, I beg my dear one to choose any of my other mountain-cabins
for his residence.-What is mine is hisl Perhaps we may meet on
the way between the Wood and the World, as my friend expressed
itl . . . To thee I am wholly devoted; for thee, for thee only
to live I
Unto death your own, your faithful
"Hohenschwangau, 2nd Nov., 1865.
" My one Friend, my ardently beloved! This afternoon,
at 3.30, I returned from a glorious tour in Switzerlandl How this
land delighted me I-There I found your dear letter; - deepest
warmest thanks for the same. With new and burning enthusiasm has
it filled me; I see that the beloved marches boldly and confidently
forward, towards our great and eternal goal. " All hindrances
I will victoriously like a hero overcome. I am entirely at thy
disposal; let me now dutifully prove it.-Yes, we must meet and
speak together. I will banish all evil clouds; Love has strength
for all. You are the star that shines upon my life, and the sight
of you ever wonderfully strengthens me.-Ardently I long for you,
O my presiding Saint, to whom I prayl I should be immensely pleased
to see my friend here in about a week; oh, we have plenty to say!
 If only I could quite banish from me the curse of which
you speak, and send it back to the deeps of night from whence
it sprangl-How I love, how I love you, my one, my highest goodl
. . ." My enthusiasm and love for you are boundless. Once
more I swear you faith till death! Ever, ever your devoted
IN these letters we see chiefly, of course, the passionate sentiments
of which Ludwig was capable; but that Wagner fully understood
the feeling and appreciated it may be gathered from various passages
in his published writings-such as the following, in which he seeks
to show how the devotion of comradeship became the chief formative
influence of the Spartan State:
" This beauteous naked man is the kernel of all Spartanhood;
from genuine delight in the beauty of the most perfect human body-that
of the male-arose that spirit of comradeship which pervades and
shapes the whole economy of the Spartan State. This love of man
to man, in its primitive purity, proclaims itself as the noblest
and least selfish utterance of man's sense of beauty, for it teaches
man to sink and merge his entire self in the object of his affection
"; and again:" The higher element of that love of man
to man consisted even in this: that it excluded the motive 
of egoistic physicalism. Nevertheless it not only included a purely
spiritual bond of friendship, but this spiritual friendship was
the blossom and the crown of the physical friendship. The latter
sprang directly from delight in the beauty, aye in the material
bodily beauty of the beloved comrade; yet this delight was no
egoistic yearning, but a thorough stepping out of self into unreserved
sympathy with the comrade's joy in himself; involuntarily betrayed
by his life-glad beautyprompted bearing. This love, which had
its basis in the noblest pleasures of both eye and soul -not like
our modern postal correspondence of sober friendship, half business-like,
half sentimental-was the Spartan's only tutoress of youth, the
never-ageing instructress alike of boy and man, the ordainer of
common feasts and valiant enterprises; nay the inspiring helpmeet
on the battlefield. For this it was that knit the fellowship of
love into battalions of war, and fore-wrote the tactics of death-daring,
in rescue of the imperilled or vengeance for the slaughtered comrade,
by the infrangible law of the soul's most natural necessity."
The Art-work of the Future, trans. by W A Ellis
ERNST HAECKEL, in his " Visit to Ceylon," describes
the devotion entertained for him by his Rodiya serving-boy at
Belligam, near Galle. The keeper of the rest-house at Belligam
was  an old and philosophically-minded man, whom Haeckel,
from his likeness to a well known head, could not help calling
by the name of Socrates. And he continues:
" It really seemed as though I should be pursued by the familiar
aspects of classical antiquity from the first moment of my arrival
at my idyllic home. For, as Socrates led me up the steps of the
open central hall of the rest-house, I saw before me, with uplifted
arms in an attitude of prayer, a beautiful naked brown figure,
which could be nothing else than the famous statue of the ' Youth
adoring.' How surprised I was when the graceful bronze statue
suddenly came to life, and dropping his arms fell on his knees,
and, after raising his black eyes imploringly to mine, bowed his
handsome face so low at my feet that his long black hair fell
on the floorl Socrates informed me that this boy was a Pariah,
a member of the lowest caste, the Rodiyas, who had lost his parents
at an early age, so he had taken pity on him. He was told off
to my exclusive service, had nothing to do the livelong day but
obey my wishes, and was a good boy, sure to do his duty punctually.
In answer to the question what I was to call my new body-servant,
the old man informed me that his name was Gamameda. Of course
I immediately thought of Ganymede, for the favorite of Jove himself
could not have been more finely made, or have had limbs more beautifully
 proportioned and moulded. As Gamameda also displayed a peculiar
talent as butler, and never allowed any one else to open me a
cocoa-nut or offer me a glass of palm wine, it was no more than
right that I should dub him Ganymede.
" Among the many beautiful figures which move in the foreground
of my memories of the paradise of Ceylon, Ganymede remains one
of my dearest favorites. Not only did he fulfil his duties with
the greatest attention and conscientiousness, but he developed
a personal attachment and devotion to me which touched me deeply.
The poor boy, as a miserable outcast of the Rodiva caste, had
been from his birth the object of the deepest contempt of his
fellow-men, and subjected to every sort of brutality and ill-treatment.
With the single exception of old Socrates, who was not too gentle
with him either, no one perhaps had ever cared for him in any
way. He was evidently as much surprised as delighted to find me
willing to be kind to him from the first.... I owe many beautiful
and valuable contributions to my museum to Ganymede's unfailing
zeal and dexterity. With the keen eye, the neat hand, and the
supple agility of the Cinghalese youth, he could catch a fluttering
moth or a gliding fish with equal promptitude; and his nimbleness
was really amazing, when, out hunting, he climbed the tall trees
like a cat, or scrambled through the densest jungle to recover
the prize I had killed." 
My Visit to Ceylon, by Ernst Haekel, (Kegan Paul, Trench
& Co., I883).
Haeckel stayed some weeks in and arround Belligam ; and continues
(p. 272 ):-
" On my return to Belgium I had to face one of the hardest
duties of my whole stay in Ceylon, to tear myself away from this
lovely spot of earth where I had spent six of the happiest and
most interesting weeks in my life.... but hardest of all was the
parting from my faithful Ganymede: the poor lad wept bitterly,
and implored me totake him with me to Europe. In vain has I assured
him that it was impossible, and told him of our chill climate
and dull skies. He clung ti my knees and declared that he would
follow me unhesitatingly wherever I would take him. I was at last
almost obliged to use force to free myself from his embrace. I
got into the carriage which was waiting, and as I waved a last
farewell to my good brown friends, I almost felt as if I had been
expelled from Paradise."
WE may close this record of celebrated Germans mans with the name
of K. H. Ulrichs, a Hanoverian by birth, who occupied for
a long time an official position in the revenue department at
Vienna, and who became well known about 1866 though his writings
on the subject of  freindship. He gives, in his pamphlet
Memnon, an account of the " story of his heart " in
early years.In an apparently quite natural way, and independently
cf outer influences, his thoughts had from the very first been
of friends of his own sex. At the age of 14, the picture of a
Greek hero or god, a statue, seen in a book, woke in him the tenderest
" This picture (he says), put away from me, as it was, a
hundred times, came again a hundred times before the eyes of my
soul. But of course for the origin of my special temFerament it
is in no way responsible. It only woke up what was already slumbering
there-a thing which might have been done equally well by something
From that time forward the boy worshipped with a kind of romantic
devotion elder friends, young men in the prime of early manhood;
and later still his writings threw a flood of light on the "urning
" temperament-as he called it-of which he was himself so
marked an example.
Some of Ulrich's verses are scattered among his prose writings:
To his friend Eberhard
" And so farewell! perchance on Earth
God's finger-as 'twixt thee and me
 Will never make that wonder clear
Why thus It drew me unto thee."
"It was the day of our first meeting -
That happy day, in Davern's grove -
I felt the Spring wind's tender greeting,
And April touched my heart to love.
Thy hand in mine lay kindly mated;
Thy gaze held mine quite- fascinated -
So gracious wast, and fair!
Thy glance my life-thread almost severed;
My heart for joy and gladness quivered,
Nigh more than it could bear.
There in the grove at evening's hour
The breeze thro' budding twigs hath ranged,
And lips have learned to meet each other,
And kisses mute exchanged."
Memnon, p. 23.
TO return to England. With the beginning of the 19th century we
find two great poets, Byron and Shelley, both interested in and
even writing in a romantic strain on the subject in question.
Byron's attachment, when at Cambridge, to Eddleston the
chorister, a youth two years younger than himself, is well known.
In a youthful letter  to Miss Pigot he, Byron, speaks of
it in enthusiastic terms:
" Trin. Coll., Camb., July 15th, 1807.
" I rejoice to hear you are interested in my protege; he
has been my almost constant associate since October, 1805, when
I entered Trinity College. His voice first attracted my attention,
his countenance fixed it, and his manners attached me to him for
ever. He departs for a mercantile house in town in October, and
we shall probably not meet till the expiration of my minority,
when I shall leave to his decision either entering as a partner
through my interest or residing with me altogether. Of course
he would in his present frame of mind prefer the latter, but he
may alter his opinion previous to that period; however, he shall
have his choice. I certainly love him more than any human being,
and neither time nor distance have had the least effect on my
(in general) changeable disposition. In short we shall put Lady
E. Butler and Miss Ponsonby to the blush, Pylades and Orestes
out of countenance, and want nothing but a catastrophe like Nisus
and Euryalus to give Jonathan and David the ' go by.' He certainly
is more attached to me than even I am in return. During the whole
of my residence at Cambridge we met every day, summer and winter,
without passing one tiresome moment, and separated each time with
Eddleston gave Byron a cornelian (brooch-pin) which Byron prized
very much, and is said to have kept all his life. He probably
refers to it, and to tlue inequality of condition between him
and Eddleston, in the following stanza from his poem, The Adieu,
written about this time:
" And thou, my friend, whose gentle love
Yet thrills my bosom's chords,
How much thy friendship was above
Description's power of words!
Still near my breast thy gift I wear
Which sparkled once with Feeling's tear,
Of Love, the pure, the sacred gem;
Our souls were equal, and our lot
In that dear moment quite forgot;
Let pride alone condemn."
THE Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Sarah Ponsonby mentioned
in the above letter were at that time living at Llangollen, in
Wales, and were known as the " Ladies of Llangollen,"
their romantic attachment to each other having already become
proverbial. When Miss Ponsonby was seventeen, and Lady E. Butler
some twenty years older, they had run away from their respective
and respectable homes in Ireland, and taking a cottage at Llangollen
lived there, inseparable  companions, for the rest of their
lives. Letters and diaries of contemporary celebrities mention
their romantic devotion. (The Duke of Wellington was among their
visitors.) Lady Eleanor died in 1829, at the age of ninety; and
Miss Ponsonby only survived her " beloved one " (as
she always called her) by two years.
As to the allusion to Nisus and Euryalus, Byron's paraphrase of
the episode (from the 9th book of Virgil's AEneid) serves to show
his interest in it :
Nisus, the guardian of the portal, stood,
Eager to gild his arms with hostile blood-
Well-skilled in fight the quivering lance to wield,
Or pour his arrows thro' the embattled field:
From Ida torn, he left his Sylvan cave,
And sought a foreign home, a distant grave.
To watch the movements of the Daunian host,
With him Euryalus sustains the post-
No lovelier mlen adorn'd the ranks of Troy,
And beardless bloom yet graced the gallant boy-
Tho' few the seasons of his youthful life,
As yet a novice in the martial strife,
'Twas his, with beautv, valor's gifts to share-
A soul heroic, as his form was fair.
These burn with one pure flame of generous love;
 In peace, in war, united still they move;
Friendship and glory form their joint reward;
And now combined they hold thelr nightly guard. '
[The two then carry out a daring raid on the enemy, in which Euryalus
is slain. Nisus, coming to his rescue is-after performing prodigies
of valor-slain too.]
" Thus Nisus all his fond affection proved -
Dying, revenged the fate of him he loved;
Then on his bosom sought his wonted place,
And death was heavenly in his friend's embrace !
Celestial pair ! if aught my verse can claim,
Wafted on Time's broad pimon, yours is fame !
Ages on ages shall your fate admire,
No future day shall see your names expire,
While stands the Capitol, immortal dome!
And vanquished millions hail their empress, Rome ! "
Byron's "Death of Calmar and Orla: an Imitation of Ossian",
is, like his Nisus and Euryalus," a story of two hero-friends
who, refusing to be separated, die together in battle:
"In Morven dwelt the chief; a beam of war to Fingal. His
steps in the field were marked in blood. Lochlin's sons had fled
before his angry spear; but mild was the eye of Calmar; 
soft was the flow of his yellow locks: they streamed like the
meteor of the night. No maid was the sigh of his soul: his thoughts
were given to friendship-to dark-haired Orwa, destroyer of heroes!
Equal were their swords in battle; but fierce was the pride of
Orla-gentle alone to Calmar. Together they dwelt in the cave of
Oithona." [Orla is sent by the King on a mission of danger
amid the hosts of the enemy. Calmar insists on accompanying him,
in spite of all entreaties to the contrary. They are discovered.
A fight ensues, and they are slain.] " Morn glimmers on the
hills: no living foe is seen; but the sleepers are many; grim
they lie on Erin. The breeze of ocean lifts their locks; yet they
do not awake. The hawks scream above their prey.
" Whose yellow locks uave o'er the breast of a chief ? Bright
as the gold of the stranger they mingle with the dark hair of
his friend. 'Tis Calmar: he lies on the bosom of Orla. Theirs
is one stream of blood. Fierce is the look of gloomy Orla. He
breathes not, but his eye is still aflame. It glares in death
unclosed. His hand is grasped in Calmar's; but Calmar lives! He
lives, though low. ' Rise,' said the King, ' Rise, son of Mora:
'tis mine to heal the wounds of heroes. Calmar may yet bound on
the hills of Morven.'
" ' Never more shall Calmar chase the deer of Morven with
Orla,' said the hero. ' What were  the chase to me alone?
Who should share the spoils of battle with Calmar? Orla is at
rest. Rough was thy soul, Orlat Yet soft to me as the dew of morn.
It glared on others in lightning: to me a silver beam of night.
Bear my sword to blue-eyed Mora; let it hang in my empty hall.
It is not pure from blood: but it could not save Orla. Lay me
with my friend. Raise the song when I am dead.' " [So they
are laid by the stream of Lubar, and four grey stones mark the
dwelling of Orla and Calmar.]
Byron's friendships, in fact, with young men were so marked that
Moore in his Life and Letters of Lord Byron seems to have
felt it necessary to mention and. to some extent, to explain them:
" During his stay in Greece (in 1810) we find him forming
one of those extraordinary friendships-if attachment to persons
so inferior to himself can be called by that name-of which I have
already mentioned two or three instances in his younger days,
and in which the pride of being a protector and the pleasure of
exciting gratitude seem to have contributed to his mind the chief,
pervading charm. The person whom he now adopted in this manner,
and from similar feelings to those which had inspired his early
attachments to the cottage boy near Newstead and the young chorister
at Cambridge, was a Greek youth, named Nicolo Giraud. the son.
I believe, of a widow lady  in whose house the artist Lusieri
lodged. In this young man he seems to have taken the most lively
and even brotherly interest."'
SHELLEY, in his fragmentary Essay on Friendship-stated
by his friend Hogg to have been written " not long before
his death "says:
" I remember forming an attachment of this kind at school.
I cannot recall to my memorv the precise epoch at which this took
place; but I imagine it must have been at the age of eleven or
twelve. The object of these sentiments was a boy about my own
age, of a character eminently generous, brave and gentle, and
the elements of human feeling seemed to have been, from his birth,
genially compounded within him. There was a delicacy and a simplicity
in his manners, inexpressibly attractive. It has never been my
fortune to meet with him since my schoolboy days; but either I
confound my present recollections with the delusions of past feelings,
or he is now a source of honor and utility to every one around
him. The tones of his voice were so soft and winning, that every
word pierced into my heart; and their pathos was so deep that
in listening to him the tears have involuntarily gushed from my
eyes. Such was the being for whom I first experienced the sacred
sentiments of friendship."
It may be noted that Hogg takes the reference as to himself !
WITH this passage we may compare the following from Leigh Hunt:
" If I had reaped no other benefit from Christ Hospital,
the school would be ever dear to me from the recollection of the
friendships I formed in it, and of the first heavenly taste it
gave me of that most spiritual of the affections.... If ever I
tasted a disembodied transport on earth, it was in those friendships
which I entertained at school, before I dreamt of any maturer
feeling. I shall never forget the impression it made on me. I
loved my friend for his gentleness, his candor, his truth, his
good repute, his freedom even from my own livelier manner, his
calm and reasonable kindness. It was not any particular talent
that attracted me to him, or anything striking whatsoever. I should
say, in one word, it was his goodness. I doubt whether he ever
had a conception of a tithe of the regard and respect I entertained
for him; and I smile to think of the perplexity (though he never
showed it) which he probably felt sometimes at my enthusiastic
expressions; for I thought him a kind of angel. It is no exaggeration
to say, that, take away the unspiritual part of it-the genius
and the knowledge-and there is no height of eonceit indulged in
by the most romantic character in Shakespeare, which surpassed
 what I felt towards the merits I ascribed to him, and the
delight which I took in his society. With the other boys I played
antics, and rioted in fantastic jests; but in his society, or
whenever I thought of him, I fell into a kind of Sabbath state
of bliss; and I am sure I could have died for him.
" I experienced this delightful affection towards three successive
schoolfellows, till two of them had for some time gone out into
the world and forgotten me; but it grew less with each, and in
more than one instance became rivalled by a new set of emotions,
especially in regard to the last, for I fell in love with his
sister-at least, I thought so. But on the occurrence of her death,
not long after, I was startled at finding myself assume an air
of greater sorrow than I felt, and at being willing to be relieved
by the sight of the first pretty face that turned towards me....
My friend, who died himself not long after his quitting the University,
was of a German family in the service of the court, very refined
Autobiography of Leigh Hunt, Smith and Elder, 1870, p 75
ON this subject of boy-friendships and their intensity Lord
Beaconsfield [Ie. Benjamin Disraeli] has, in Coningsby,
a quite romantic passage, which notwithstanding its sentimental
setting may be worth quoting; because, after all, it signalizes
an often forgotten or unconsidered aspect of school-life:
" At school, friendship is a passion. It entrances the being;
it tears the soul. All loves of after-life can never bring its
rapture, or its wretchedness; no bliss so absorbing, no pangs
of jealousy or despair so crushing and so keen! What tenderness
and what devotion; what illimitable confidence, infinite revelations
of inmost thoughts; what ecstatic present and romantic future;
what bitter estrangements and what melting reconciliations; what
scenes of wild recrimination, agitating explanations, passionate
correspondence; what insane sensitiveness, and what frantic sensibility;
what earthquakes of the heart and whirlwinds of the soul are confined
in that simple phrase, a schoolboy's friendship I "
EDWARD FITZGERALD, the interpreter and translator of Omar
Khayyam, was a man of the deepest feeling and sensibility,
with a special gift for friendship. Men like Tennyson and Thackeray
declared that they loved him best of all their friends. He himself
said in one of his letters, " My friendships are more like
loves." A. C. Benson, his biographer, writes of him:
" He was always taking fancies, and once under the spell
he could see no faults in his friend. His friendship for Browne
arose out of one of these romantic impulses. So too his affection
for Posh, the boatman; for Cowell, and for Alfred Smith, 
the farmer of Farlingay and Boulge, who had been his protege as
a boy. He seems to have been one of those whose best friendships
are reserved for men; for though he had beloved women friends
like Mrs. Cowell and Mrs. Kemble, yet these are the exceptions
rather than the rule. The truth is, there was a strong admixture
of the feminine in Fitzgerald's character." Fitzgerald
English Men of Letters Series, ch. viii.
The friendship with Posh, the fisherman, at Lowestoft and at Woodbridge,
lasted over many years. Fitzgerald had a herring-lugger built
for him, which he called the Meum and Tuum, and in which they
had many a sail together. Benson, speaking of their first meeting,
"In the same year  came another great friendship. He
made the acquaintance of a stalwart sailor named Joseph Fletcher,
commonly called Posh. It was at Lowestoft that he was found, where
Fitzgerald used, as he wrote in 1850, ' to wander about the shore
at night longing for some fellow to accost me who might give some
promise of filling up a very vacant place in my heart.' Posh had
seen the melancholy figure wandering about, and years after, when
Fitz used to ask him why he had not been merciful enough to speak
to him, Posh would reply that he had not thought of it becoming.
Posh was, in Fitzgerald's own words, ' a man of the finest Saxon
 type, with a complexion, vif, mâle et flamboyant,
blue eyes, a nose less than Roman, more than Greek, and strictly
auburn hair that woman might sigh to possess.' He was too, according
to Fitz, ' a man of simplicity of soul, justice of thought, tenderness
of nature, a gentleman of Nature's grandest type.' Fitz became
deeply devoted to this big-handed, soft-hearted, grave fellow,
then 24 years of age."
Ibid., ch. iii.
ALFRED TENNYSON, in his great poem, In Memoriam,
published about the middle of the 19th century, gives superb expression
to his love for his lost friend, Arthur Hallam. Reserved, dignified,
in sustained meditation and tender sentiment, yet half revealing
here and there a more passionate feeling; expressing in simplest
words the most difficult and elusive thoughts (e.g., Cantos 128
and 129), as well as the most intimate and sacred moods of the
soul; it is indeed a great work of art. Naturally, being such,
it was roundly abused by the critics on its first appearance.
The Times solemnly rebuked its language as unfitted for any but
amatory tenderness, and because young Hallam was a barrister spent
much wit upon the poet's " Amaryllis of the Chancery bar."
Tennyson himself, speaking of  In Memoriam, mentioned
(see Memoir by his son, p. 800) " the number of shameful
letters of abuse he had received about it I "
" Tears of the widower, when he sees,
A late-lost form that sleep reveals,
And moves his doubtful arms, and feels
Her place is empty, fall like these;
Which weep a loss for ever new,
A void where heart on heart reposed;
And, where warm hands have prest and closed,
Silence, till I be silent too.
Which weep the comrade of my choice,
An awful thought, a life removed,
The human-hearted man I loved,
A spirit, not a breathing voice.
Come Time, and teach me, many years,
I do not suffer in a dream;
For now so strange do these things seem,
Mine eyes have leisure for their tears;
My fancies time to rise on wing,
And glance about the approaching sails,
As tho' they brought but merchant's bales,
And not the burden that they bring."
'Tis well. 'tis something, we may stand
Where he in English earth is laid,
And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land.
'Tis little; but it looks in truth
As if the quiet bones were blest
Among familiar names to rest
And in the places of his youth.
Come then, pure hands, and bear the head
That sleeps, or wears the mask of sleep,
And come, whatever loves to weep,
And hear the ritual of the dead.
Ah yet. ev'n yet, if this might be,
I, falling on his faithful head:,
Would breathing thro' his lips impart
The life that almost dies in me:
That dies not, but endures with pain,
And slowly forms the firmer mind,
Treasuring the look it cannot find,
The words that are not heard again."
If, in thy second state sublime,
Thy ransom d reason change replies
With all the circle of the wise,
The perfect flower of human time;
And if thou cast thine eyes below,
How dimly character'd and slight,
How dwarf'd a growth of cold and night,
How blanch'd with darkness must I grow !
Yet turn thee to the doubtful shore,
Where thy first form was made a man;
I loved thee, Spirit, and love, nor can
The soul of Shakspeare love thee more "
Dear friend, far off, my lost desire,
So far, so near, in woe or weal;
O loved the most when most I feel
There is a lower and a higher;
Known and unknown, human, divine I
Sweet human hand and lips and eye,
Dear heavenly friend that canst not die,
Mine, mine, for ever, ever, mine I
Strange friend, past, present and to be;
Loved deeplier, darklier understood
Behold I dream a dream of good
And mingle all the world with thee."
" Thy voice is on the rolling air;
I hear thee where the waters run;
Thou standest in the rising sun,
And in the setting thou art fair.
What are thou then? I cannot guess;
But tho' I seem in star and flower
To feel thee some diffusive power,
I do not therefore love thee less:
My love involves the love before;
My love is vaster passion now;
Tho' mixed with God and Nature thou,
I seem to love thee more and more.
Far off thou art, but ever nigh;
I have thee still, and I rejoice;
I prosper, circled with thy voice;
I shall not lose thee tho' I dle."
FOLLOWING is a little poem by Robert Browning, entitled May and Death, which may well be placed near the stanzas
of In Memoriam
" I wish that when you died last May,
Charles, there had died along with you
Three parts of Spring's delightful things;
Ay, and for me the fourth part too.
A foolish thought, and worse, perhaps I
There must be many a pair of friends
Who arm-in-arm deserve the warm
Moon-births and the long evening-ends.
So, for their sake, be May still May!
Let their new time, as mine of old
Do all it did for me; I bid
Sweet sights and sounds throng manifold.
Only one little sigh, onc plant
Woods have in May, that starts up green
Save a sole streak which, so to speak,
Is Spring's blood, split its leaves between
That, they might spare; a certain wood
Might miss the plant; their loss were small;
But I-whene'er the leaf grows there
It's drop comes from my heart, that's all."
BETWEEN Browning and Whitman we may insert a few lines from R.
" The only way to have a friend is to be one. . . . In the
last analysis love is only the reflection of a man's own worthiness
from other men. Men have sometimes exchanged names with their
friends, as if they would signify that in their friend each loved
his own soul.
" The higher the style we demand of friendship, of course
the less easy to establish it with flesh and blood.... Friends,
such as we desire, are dreams and fables. But a sublime hope cheers
ever the faithful heart, that elsewhere, in other regions of the
universal power, souls are now  acting, enduring, and daring,
which can love us, and which we can love."
Essay on Friendship.
These also from Henry D. Thoreau:
" No word is oftener on the lips of men than Friendship,
and indeed no thought is more familiar to their aspirations. All
men are dreaming of it, and its drama, which is always a tragedy,
is enacted daily. It is the secret of the universe. You may thread
the town, you may wander the country, and none shall ever speak
of it, yet thought is everywhere busy about it, and the idea of
what is possible in this respect affects our behavior towards
all new men and women, and a great many old ones. Nevertheless
I can remember only two or three essays on this subject in all
literature.... To say that a man is your friend, means commonly
no more than this, that he is not your enemy. Most contemplate
only what would be the accidental and trifling advantages of friendship,
as that the friend can assist in time of need, by his substance,
or his influence, or his counsel; but he who foresees such advantages
in this relation proves himself blind to its real advantage, or
indeed wholly inexperienced in the relation itself.... What is
commonly called Friendship is only a little more honor among rogues.
But sometimes we are said to love another, that is, to stand in
a true relation to him, so that we give the best to, and receive
the best from, him. Between whom there is hearty truth there is
love; and in  proportion to our truthfulness and confidence
in one another our lives are divine and miraculous, and answer
to our ideal. There are passages of affection in our intercourse
with mortal men and women, such as no prophecy had taught us to
expect, which transcend our earthly life, and anticipate heaven
From On the Concord River
I CONCLUDE this collection with a few quotations from Whitman,
for whom " the love of comrades " perhaps stands as
the most intimate part of his message to the world-" Here
the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting."
Whitman, by his great power, originality and initiative, as well
as by his deep insight and wide vision, is in many ways the inaugurator
of a new era to mankind; and it is especially interesting to find
that this idea of comradeship, and of its establishment as a social
institution, plays so important a part with him. We have seen
that in the Greek age, and more or less generally in the ancient
and pagan world, comradeship was an institution; we have seen
that in Christian and modern times, though existent, it was socially
denied and ignored, and indeed to a great extent fell under a
kind of ban; and now Whitman's attitude  towards it suggests
to us that it really is destined to pass into its third stage,
to arise again, and become a recognized factor of modern life,
and even in a more extended and perfect form than at first. [As
Whitman in this connection (like Tennyson in connection with In
Memoriam) is sure to be accused of morbidity, it may he worth
while to insert the following note from In reWalt Whitman,
p. 115, " Dr. Drinkard in 1870, when Whitman broke down from
rupture of a small blood-vessel in the brain, wrote to a Philadelphia
doctor detailing Whitman's case, and stating that he was a man
' with the most natural habits, bases, and organisation he had
" It is to the development, identification, and general prevalence
of that fervid comradeship (the adhesive love, at least rivalling
the amative love hitherto possessing imaginative literature, if
not going beyond it), that I look for the counterbalance and offset
of our materialistic and vulgar American Democracy, and for the
spiritualization thereof. Many will say it is a dream, and will
not follow my inferences; but I confidently expect
a time when there will be seen, running like a half-hid warp through
all the myriad audible and visible worldly interests of America,
threads of manly friendship, fond and loving, pure and sweet,
strong and lifelong, carried to degrees hitherto unknown-not only
giving tone to individual character, and making it unprecedently
emotional, muscular, heroic, and refined, but having deepest relations
to general politics. I say Democracy  infers such loving
comradeship, as its most inevitable twin or counterpart, without
which it will be incomplete, in vain, and incapable of perpetuating
Democratic Vistas note
The three following poems are taken from Leaves of Grass:
" Recorders ages hence,
Come, I will take you down underneath this im passive exterior,
I will tell you what to say of me,
Publish my name and hang up my picture as that of the tenderest
The friend the lover's portrait, of whom his friend his lover
Who was not proud of his songs, but of the measureless ocean of
love within him, and freely pour'd it forth,
Who often walk'd lonesome walks thinking of his dear friends,
Who pensive away from one he lov'd often lay sleepless and dissatisfied
Who knew too well the sick, sick dread lest the one he lov'd might
secretly be indifferent to him,
Whose happiest days were far away through fields, in woods, on
hills, he and another wan dering hand in hand, they twain apart
from other men,
Who oft as he saunter'd the streets curv'd with his  arm
the shoulder of his friend, while the arm of his friend rested
upon him also."
Leaves of Grass, 1891, 2 edn., p. 102.
" When I heard at the close of the day how my name had been
receiv'd with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a happy
night for me that follow'd,
And else when I carous'd, or when my plans were accomplish'd,
still I was not happy,
But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect health,
refresh'd, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of autumn,
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and disappear in
the morning light,
When I wander'd alone over the beach, and undressing bathed, laughing
with the cool waters, and saw the sun rise,
And when I thought how my dear friend my lover was on his way
coming, O then I was happy,
O then each breath tasted sweeter, and all that day my food nourish'd
me more, and the beautiful day pass'd well,
And the next came with equal joy, and with the next at evening
came my friend, and that night while all was still I heard the
waters roll slowly continuously up the shores,
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands as directed
to me whispering to congratulate me,
For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same
cover in the cool night,
In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined
And his arm lay lightly around my breast-and that night I was
Ibid, p. 103.
"I hear it was charged against me that I sought to destroy
But really I am neither for nor against institutions, (What indeed
have I in common with them? or what with the destruction of them?)
Only I will establish in the Mannahatta and in every city of these
States inland and seaboard,
And in the fields and woods, and above every keel little or large
that dents the water,
Without edifices or rules or trustees or any argument,
The institution of the dear love of comrades."
lbid, p. 107.
HTML, Paul Halsall, some subtitles have been added [they were
supplied by page headings in the original]
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