Regard for inanimate Objects.—The same principle extends also to inanimate objects, as places and scenes with which we have become familiar, the meadows through which we roamed in childhood, the books we read, the rooms we inhabited, even the instruments of our daily toil. These all become associated with ourselves, we form a sort of friendship for them. The prisoner who has spent long years of confinement in his solitary cell, forms a species of attachment for the very walls that have shut him in, and looks upon them for the last time, when at length the hour of deliverance arrives, not without a measure of regret. The sword that has been often used in battle is thenceforth, to the old soldier, the visible representative of many a hard-fought field, and many a perilous adventure. Uncouth and rusty it may be, ill-formed, and unadorned, in its plain and clumsy iron scabbard, but its owner would not exchange it for one of solid gold. It is not strange that the principle of association, which attaches us so closely even to inanimate objects, should enter largely as an element into the friendships we form with our own species.
Other Causes auxiliary.—I would by no means deny, however, that other causes may, and usually do, contribute to the same result. Mere acquaintance and companionship do not, of necessity, nor invariably, amount to friendship. There must be some degree of sympathy, and congeniality of thought and feeling, some community of interests, pursuits, desires, hopes, something in common between the two minds, or no friendship will spring up between them. Acquaintance, and participation in the same scenes and pursuits, furnish, to some extent, this common ground. But even where this previous companionship is wanting, there may exist such congeniality and sympathy between two minds, the tastes and feelings, the aims and aspirations of each may be so fully in unison, that each shall feel itself drawn to the other, with a regard which needs only time and opportunity to ripen into strong and lasting friendship.
Dissimilarity not inconsistent with Friendship.—Nor is it necessary, in order to true friendship, that there should be complete similarity or agreement. The greatest diversity even may exist in many respects, whether as to qualities of mind, or traits of character. Indeed, such diversity, to some extent, must be regarded as favorable to friendship, rather than otherwise. We admire, often, in others, the very qualities which we perceive to be lacking in ourselves, and choose for our friends those whose richer endowments in these respects may compensate in a measure for our own deficiencies. The strongest friendships are often formed in this way by persons whose characters present striking points of contrast. Such diversity, in respect to natural gifts and traits of character, is not inconsistent with the closest sympathy of views and feelings in regard to other matters, and therefore not inconsistent with the warmest friendship.
Limitation of the Number of Friends.—It was, perhaps, an idle question, discussed in the ancient schools of philosophy, whether true friendship can subsist between more than two persons. No reason can be shown why this affection should be thus exclusive, nor do facts seem to justify such a limitation. The addition of a new friend to the circle of my acquaintance does not necessarily detract aught from the affection I bear to my former friends, nor does it awaken suspicion or jealousy on their part. In this respect, friendship is unlike the love which exists between the sexes, and which is exclusive in its nature.
It must be admitted, at the same time, that there are limits to this extension, and that he who numbers a large circle of friends is not likely to form a very strong attachment for any one of them. Not unfrequently, indeed, a friendship thus unlimited is the mark, as Mr. Stewart suggests, of a cold and selfish character, prompted to seek the acquaintance of others by a regard to his own advantage, and a desire for society, rather than by any real attachment to those whose companionship he solicits. True and genuine friendship is usually more select in its choice, and is wholly disinterested in its character. A cold and calculating policy forms no part of its nature. It springs from no selfish or even prudential considerations. It burns with a pure and steady flame in the heart that cherishes it, and burns on even when the object of its regard is no longer on earth. Our friendships are not all with the living. We cherish the memory of those whom we no longer see, and welcome to the heart those whom we no longer welcome to our home and fireside.
Effect of adventitious Circumstances.—Reverses in life, changes in fortune, the accidents of health and sickness, of wealth and poverty, of station and influence, have little power to weaken the ties of true friendship once formed. They test, but do not impair its strength. True friendship only makes us cling the closer to our friend in his adversity; and when fortune frowns, and the sunshine of popular favor passes away, and "there is none so poor to do him reverence," whom once all men courted and admired, we still love him, who, in better days, showed himself worthy of our love and who, we feel, is none the less worthy of it, now that we must love him for what he is, and not for what he has. That is not worthy the name of friendship, which will not endure this test.
Changes in moral Character.—Much more seriously is friendship endangered by any change of moral character and principle, on the part of either of the friends. So long as the change affects merely the person, the wealth, the social position, the power, the good name even, we feel that these are but the external circumstances, the accidents, the surroundings, and not the man himself, and however these things may vary, our friend remains the same. But when the change is in the heart and character of the man himself, when he whose sympathies and moral sentiments were once in unison with our own, shows himself to be no longer what he once was, or what we fondly thought him to be, there is no longer that community of thought and feeling between us that is essential to true and lasting friendship. Yet, even in such a case, we continue to cherish for the friend of former years a regard and affection which subsequent changes do not wholly efface. We think of him as he was, and not as he is; as he was in those earlier and better days, when the heart was fresh and unspoiled, and the feet had not as yet turned aside from the paths of rectitude and honor.
§ III.—Love of Benefactors.
As related to Friendship.—Closely allied to the affections we feel for our friends is the emotion we cherish towards our benefactors. Like the former, it is one of the forms of that principle into which all kindly affection ultimately resolves itself, namely, love, differing as the object differs on which it rests, but one in nature under all these varieties of form. The love which we feel for a benefactor, differs from that which we feel for a friend, as the latter again differs from that which we feel for a parent or a child. It differs from friendship, in that the motive which prompted the benefaction, on the part of the giver, may be simple benevolence, and not personal regard; while, on our part, the emotion awakened may be simple gratitude to the generous donor, a gratitude which, though it may lead to friendship, is not itself the result of personal attachment.
Nature of this Affection.—If we inquire more closely into the nature of this affection, we find that it involves, as do all the benevolent affections, a feeling of pleasure or delight, together with a benevolent regard for the object on which the affection rests. The pleasure, in this case, results from the reception of a favor. It is not, however, merely a pleasure in the favor received, as in itself valuable, or as meeting our necessities; it is, over and beyond this, a pleasure in the giver as a noble and generous person, and as standing in friendly relations to us. Such conceptions are always agreeable to the mind, and that in a high degree. The benevolent regard which we cherish for such a person, the disposition and wish to do him good in turn, are the natural result of this agreeable conception of him; and the two together, the pleasure, and the benevolent regard, constitute the complex emotion which we call gratitude.