Friendship | Page 7

heart on his sleeve cannot wonder if daws peck at it.
There ought to be a sanctuary, to which few receive admittance. It is
great innocence, or great folly, and in this connection the terms are
almost synonymous, to open our arms to everybody to whom we are
introduced. The Book of Proverbs, as a manual on friendship, gives as
shrewd and caustic warnings as are needed, but it does not go to the
other extreme, and say that all men are liars, that there are no truth and
faithfulness to be found. To say so is to speak in haste. There is a friend
that sticketh closer than a brother, says this wisest of books. There is
possible such a blessed relationship, a state of love and trust and
generous comradehood, where a man feels safe to be himself, because
he knows that he will not easily be misunderstood.
The word friendship has been abased by applying it to low and
unworthy uses, and so there is plenty of copy still to be got from life by
the cynic and the satirist. The sacred name of friend has been bandied
about till it runs the risk of losing its true meaning. Rossetti's versicle
finds its point in life--
"Was it a friend or foe that spread these lies?" "Nay, who but infants

question in such wise? 'T was one of my most intimate enemies."
It is useless to speak of cultivating the great gift of friendship unless we
make clear to ourselves what we mean by a friend. We make
connections and acquaintances, and call them friends. We have few
friendships, because we are not willing to pay the price of friendship.
If we think it is not worth the price, that is another matter, and is quite
an intelligible position, but we must not use the word in different
senses, and then rail at fate because there is no miracle of beauty and
joy about our sort of friendship. Like all other spiritual blessings it
comes to all of us at some time or other, and like them is often let slip.
We have the opportunities, but we do not make use of them. Most men
make friends easily enough: few keep them. They do not give the
subject the care, and thought, and trouble, it requires and deserves. We
want the pleasure of society, without the duty. We would like to get the
good of our friends, without burdening ourselves with any
responsibility about keeping them friends. The commonest mistake we
make is that we spread our intercourse over a mass, and have no depth
of heart left. We lament that we have no stanch and faithful friend,
when we have really not expended the love which produces such. We
want to reap where we have not sown, the fatuousness of which we
should see as soon as it is mentioned. "She that asks her dear five
hundred friends" (as Cowper satirically describes a well-known type)
cannot expect the exclusive affection, which she has not given.
The secret of friendship is just the secret of all spiritual blessing. The
way to get is to give. The selfish in the end can never get anything but
selfishness. The hard find hardness everywhere. As you mete, it is
meted out to you.
Some men have a genius for friendship. That is because they are open
and responsive, and unselfish. They truly make the most of life; for
apart from their special joys, even intellect is sharpened by the
development of the affections. No material success in life is
comparable to success in friendship. We really do ourselves harm by
our selfish standards. There is an old Latin proverb,[1] expressing the
worldly view, which says that it is not possible for a man to love and at

the same time to be wise. This is only true when wisdom is made equal
to prudence and selfishness, and when love is made the same. Rather it
is never given to a man to be wise in the true and noble sense, until he
is carried out of himself in the purifying passion of love, or the
generosity of friendship. The self-centred being cannot keep friends,
even when he makes them; his selfish sensitiveness is always in the
way, like a diseased nerve ready to be irritated.
The culture of friendship is a duty, as every gift represents a
responsibility. It is also a necessity; for without watchful care it can no
more remain with us than can any other gift. Without culture it is at
best only a potentiality. We may let it slip, or we can use it to bless our
lives. The miracle of friendship, which came at first with its infinite
wonder and beauty, wears off, and the glory fades