Latest / The Philosophy Insights Collection / 06 - Friendship - Essay by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Transcript
- Friendship, a ruddy drop of manly blood. The surging sea outweighs the world, uncertain comes and goes, the lover rooted stays. I fancied, he was fled, and after many a year glowed unexhausted kindliness like daily sunrise. There my careful heart was free again, Oh friend, my bosom said, through thee alone. The sky is arched through thee, the rose is red. All thinks through thee. Take nobler form, and look beyond the earth. The mill round of our fate appears a sun path in thy worth. Me too. Thy nobleness has taught to master my despair. The fountains of my hidden life are through thy friendship. Fair, we have a great deal more kindness than is ever spoken. Muger all the selfishness that chills like east winds the world. The whole human family is bathed with an element of love, like a fine ether. How many persons we meet in houses whom we scarcely speak, to, whom yet we honor, and who honor us. How many we see in the street or sit with in church, whom, though silently we warmly rejoice to be with. Read the language of these wandering eye beams the heart knoweth. The effect of the indulgence of this human affection is certain cordial exhilaration. In poetry and in common speech, the emotions of benevolence and complacency which are felt towards others are likened to the material effects of fire. So swift more, much more, swift, more active, more cheering are these fine inward irradiations, from the highest degree of passionate love to the lowest degree of good will. They make the sweetness of life. Our intellectual and active powers increase with our affection. The scholar sits down to write, and all his years of meditation do not furnish him with one good thought or happy expression. But it is necessary to write a letter to a friend, and forthwith troops of gentle thoughts, invest themselves on every hand with chosen words. See in any house where virtue and self respect abide, the palpitation which the approach of a stranger causes. A commended stranger is expected and announced, and an uneasiness betwixt pleasure and pain evades all the hearts of a household. His arrival almost brings fear to the good hearts that would welcome him. The house is dusted, all things fly into their places. The old coade is exchanged for the new, and they must get up a dinner if they can. Of a commended stranger, only the good report is told by others. Only the good and new is heard by us. He stands to us for humanity. He is what we wish. Having imagined and invested him, we ask how we should stand related in conversation and action with such a man, and are uneasy with fear. The same idea exalts conversation with him. We talk better than we are wont We have the nimblest fancy, a richer memory, and our dumb devil has taken leave for the time. For long hours, we can continue a series of sincere graceful, rich communications drawn from the oldest, secretest experience, so that they who sit by, of our own kinsfolk and acquaintance, shall feel a lively surprised at our unusual powers. But as soon as the stranger begins to intrude his partialities, his definitions, his defects into the conversation, it is all over. He has heard the first, the last, and the best he will ever hear from us. He is no stranger now, vulgarity, ignorance, misapprehension are old acquaintances. Now when he comes, he may get the order, the dress, and the dinner, But the throbbing of the hearts and the communications of the soul no more. What is so pleasant as these jets of affection which make a young world for me? Again? What so delicious? Has a just and firm encounter of two and a thought and a feeling? How beautiful on their approach to this beating art, the steps and forms of the gifted and the true. The moment we indulge our affections, the earth is metamorphosed. There is no winter and no night. All tragedies all on we vanish, all duties. Even nothing fills the preceding eternity, but the forms, all radiant of beloved persons. Let the soul be assured that somewhere in the universe it should rejoin its friend, and it would be content and cheerful alone for a thousand years. I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new. Shall I not call God the beautiful, who daily showeth himself so to me in his gifts. I chide society, I embrace solitude. And yet I am not so ungrateful as not to see the wise, the lovely, and the noble minded, as from time to time they pass my gate. Who hears me, who understands me, becomes mine a possession for all time. Nor is nature so poor, but she gives me this joy several times. And thus we weave social threads of our own, a new web of relations, and as many thoughts in succession substantiate themselves, we shall buy and buy stand in a new world of our own creation, and no longer strangers and pilgrims in a traditionary globe. My friends have come to me unsought. The Great God gave them to me by oldest rights, by the divine affinity of virtue with itself. I find them, or rather not I, but the Deity in me and in them, derides and cancels the thick walls of individual character, relation, age, sex, circumstance at which he usually connives and now makes many one. I thanks, I owe you, excellent lovers, who carry out the world for me to new and noble depths, and enlarge the meaning of all my thoughts. These are the new poetry of the first Bard poetry without stop him ode and epic poetry still flowing, Apollo in the muses, chanting. Still Will these two separate themselves from me again? Or some of them? I know not, but I fear it not, for my relation to them is so pure that we hold by simple affinity, and the genius of my life. Being thus social, the same affinity will exert its energy on whomsoever is as noble as these men and women. Wherever I may be, I confess to an extreme tenderness of nature on this point. It is almost dangerous to me to crush the sweet poison of misused wine. Of the affections a new person is to me a great event, and hinders me from sleep. I have often had fine fancies about persons which have given me delicious hours. But the joy ends in the day. It yields no fruit. Thought is not born of it. My action is very little modified. I must feel pride in my friend's accomplishments as if they were mine, and a property. In his virtues, I feel as warmly when he is praised as the lover when hears applause of his engaged maiden. We overestimate the conscience of our friend, his goodness seems better than our goodness, his nature, finer, his temptations less, everything that is his, his name, his form, his dress, books, and instruments. Fancy enhances our own thought, sounds new and larger from his mouth. Yet the cistole and diastole of the heart are not without their analogy in the ebb and flow of love. Friendship, like the immortality of the soul, is too good to be believed. The lover beholding his maiden half knows that she is not verily that which he worships, And in the golden hour of friendship, we are surprised with shades of suspicion and unbelief. We doubt that we bestow on our hero the virtues at which he shines, and afterwards worship the fourth which we have ascribed this divine inhabitation. In strictness, the soul does not respect men as it respects itself. In strict science, all persons underlie the same condition of an infinite remoteness. Shall we fear to cool our love by mining for the metaphysical foundation of this Elysian temple? Shall I not be as real as the things I see? If I am, I shall not fear to know them for what they are. Their essence is not less beautiful than their appearance, though it needs finer organs for its apprehension. The root of the plant is not unsightly to science, though for chaplets and festoons we cut the stem short, and I must hazard the production of the bald fact amidst these pleasing reveries, though it should prove an Egyptian scald our banquet. A man who stands united with this thought conceives magnificently of himself. He is conscious of a universal success, even though bought by uniform particular failures. No advantages, no all powers, no gold or force can be any match for him. I cannot choose but to rely on my own poverty more than on your wealth. I cannot make your consciousness tat about to mine. Only the star dazzles. The planet has a faint moonlike ray. I hear what you say of the admirable parts and tried temper of the party you praise. But I see well that for all his purple cloaks, I shall not like him unless he is at last a poor Greek like me. I cannot deny it, o friend, that the vast shadow of the phenomenal includes thee also in its pied and painted immensity, thee also compared with whom all else is shadow. Thou art not being as truth is as justice is. Thou art not my soul, but a picture and effigy of that thou hast come to me lately, and already thou art seizing thyak? Is it not that the soul puts forth friends as the tree puts forth leaves, and presently, by the germination of new buds extrudes the old leaf, the law of nature is altered nation forevermore, Each electrical state superinduces the opposite. The soul environs itself with friends that it may enter into a grander self acquaintance or solitude, and it goes alone for a season that it may exalt its conversation or society. This method betrays itself along the whole history of our personal relations. The instinct of affection revives the hope of union with our mates, and the returning sense of insolation recalls us from the chase. Thus every man passes his life in the search after friendship. And if he should record his true sentiment, he might write a letter like this to each new candidate for his love. Dear friend, if I was sure of THEE, sure of thy capacity, sure to match my mood with thine, I should never think again of trifles in relation to thy comings and goings. I am not very wise. My moods are quite attainable, and I respect thy genius. It is to me as yet unfathomed. Yet, dare I not presume in THEE a perfect intelligence of me? And so thou art to me a delicious torment thine ever or never? Yet? These uneasy pleasures and fine pains are for the curiosity and not for life. They are not to be indulged. This is to weave cobweb and not cloth. Our friendships hurry to short and poor conclusions because we have made them a texture of wine and dreams instead of the tough fiber of the human heart. The laws of friendship are austere and eternal, of one web with the laws of nature and of But we have aimed at a swift and petty benefit, to suck a sudden sweetness. We snatch at the slowest fruit in the whole garden of God, which many summers and many winters must ripen. We seek our friend, not sacredly, but with an adulterate passion which would appropriate him to ourselves in vain. We are harmed all over with subtle antagonisms, which, as soon as we meet, begin to play and translate all poetry into stale prose. Almost all people descend to meet. All association must be a compromise. And what is worst? The very flower and aroma of the flower of each of the beautiful natures disappears as they approach each other. What a perpetual disappointment is actual society, even of the virtuous and gifted, after interviews have been compassed with long foresight, we must be tormented presently by baffled blows, by sudden, unseasonable apathies, by epilepsies of wit and of animal spirits. In the heyday of friendship and thought, our faculties do not play us true, and both parties are relieved by solitude. I ought to be equal to every relation. It makes no difference how many friends I have and what content I can find in conversing with each. If there be one to whom I am not equal, if I have shrunk unequal from one contest, the joy I find in all the rest becomes mean and cowardly. I should hate myself if then I made my other friends my asylum. The valiant warrior, famous for fights after a hundred victories, once foiled, is from the book of Honor, raised quiet, and all the rest forgot for which he toiled. Our impatience is thus sharply rebuked. Bashfulness and appeny are a tough husk in which a delicate organization is protected from premature ripening. It would be lost if it knew itself before any of the best souls were yet ripe enough to know and own it respect. Then her lungzhamkites, which hardens the ruby in a million years, and works in duration in which alps and andes come and go as rainbows. The good spirit of our life has no heaven, which is the price of rashness. Love, which is the essence of God, is not for levity, but for the total worth of man. Let us not have this childish luxury in our regards, but the austerest worth. Let us approach our friend with an audacious trust in the truth of his heart, in the breadth impossible to be overturned of his foundations. The attractions of this subject are not to be resisted, And I leave for the time all account of subordinate social benefit to speak of that select and sacred relation, which is a kind of absolute, and which even leaves the language of love suspicious and common. So much is this purer, and nothing is so much divine. I do not wish to treat friendships daintily, but with roughest courage. When they are real. They are not glass threads or frost work, but the solidest thing we know. For now, after so many ages of experience, what do we know of nature or of ourselves? Not one step has man taken towards the solution of the problem of his destiny. In one condemnation of folly stand the whole universe of men. But the sweet sincerity of joy and peace, which I draw from misalliance with my brother's soul, is the nut itself, whereof all nature and all thought is but the husk, and shall happy is the house that shelters a friend. It might well be built like a festal bower or arch to entertain him a single day happier if he know the solemnity of that relation and honor its law. He who offers himself a candidate for that covenant comes up like an olympian to the great Games, where the first board of the world are the competitors. He proposes himself for contests where time, want, danger are in the lists, and he alone is victor, who has truth enough in his constitution to preserve the delicacy of his beauty from the wear and tear of all these. The gifts of fortune may be present or absence, but all the speed in that contest depends on intrinsic nobleness and the contempt of trifles. There are two elements that go to the composition of friendship, each so sovereign that I can detect no superiority in either, no reason why either should be first named. One is truth. A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere. For him, I may think aloud. I am arrived at last in the presence of a man so real and equal that I may drop even those undermost garments of dissimulation, courtesy, and second thought which men never put off, and may deal with him with the simplicity and wholeness with which one chemical atom meets another. Sincerity is the luxury allowed, like diadems and authority only to the highest rank that being permitted to speak truth as having none above it to courts or conform unto every man alone is sincere. At the entrance of a second person, hypocrisy begins. We parry and fend the approach of our fellow men by compliments, by gossip, by amusements, by affairs. We cover up our thought from him under a hundred folds. I k you a man who, under a certain religious frenzy, cast off this drapery, and, omitting all compliments and commonplace, spoke to the conscience of every person he encountered, and that with great insight and beauty. At first he was resisted, and all men agreed he was mad, but persisting, as indeed he could not help doing. For some time in this course he attained to the advantage of bringing every man of his acquaintance into true relations with him. No man would think of speaking falsely with him, or of putting him off with any chat of markets or reading rooms. But every man was constrained by so much sincerity to the like plain dealing, and what love of nature, what poetry, what symbol of truth? He had? He did certainly show him. But to most of us society shows not its face and eye, but its side and its back to stand in true relations with men in a false age is worth a fit of insanity, is it not? We can seldom go erect. Almost every man we meet requires some civility, requires to be humored. He has some fame, some talent, some whim of religion or philanthropy in his head. That is not to be questioned man which spoils all conversation with him. But a friend is a sane man who exercises not my ingenuity but me. My friend gives me entertainment without requiring any stipulation on my part. A friend, therefore, is a sort of paradox in nature, I who alone am, I who see nothing in nature, whose existence I can affirm with equal evidence to my own. Behold now the semblance of my being, in all its height, variety, and curiosity, reiterated in a foreign form, so that a friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature. The other element of friendship is tenderness. We are holding to men by everyvery sort of tie, by blood, by pride, by fear, by hope, by lucre, by lust, by hate, by admiration, by every circumstance and badge, and trifle. But we can scarce believe that so much character can subsist in another as to draw us by love. Can another be so blessed and we so pure, that we can offer him tenderness when a man becomes dear to me, I have touched the goal of fortune. I find very little written directly to the heart of this matter in books, and yet I have one text which I cannot choose. But remember my author says, I offer myself faintly and bluntly to those whose I effectually am, and tender myself least to him to whom I am the most devoted. I wish that friendship should have feet as well as eyes and eloquence. It must plant itself on the ground before it vaults over the moon. I wish it to be a little of a citizen before it is quite a cherub. We chide the citizen because he makes love a commodity. It is an exchange of gifts of useful loans. It is a good neighborhood. It watches with the sick, it holds the pall at the funeral, and quite loses sight of the delicacies and nobility of the relation. But though we cannot find the God under this disguise of a sutler. Yet on the other hand, we cannot forgive the poet if he spins his thread too fine and does not substantiate his romance by the municipal virtues of justice, punctuality, fidelity, and pity. I hate the prostitution of the name of friendship to signify modish and worldly alliances. I much prefer the company of plowboys and tin peddlers to the silken and perfumed amity, which celebrates its days of encounter by a frivolous display, by rides in a curical and dinners of the best taverns. The end of friendship is a commerce, the most strict and homely that can be joined, more strict than any of which we have experience. It is for aid and comfort through all the relations and passages of life and death. It is fit for serene days and graceful gifts and country rambles, but also for rough roads and hard fare, shipwreck, poverty, and persecution. It keeps company with the sallies of the wits and the trances of religion. We are to dignify to each other the daily needs and offices of man's life and embellish it by courage, wisdom, and unity. It should never fall into something usual and settled, but should be alert and inventive, and add rime and reason to what was drudgery. Friendship may be said to require natures so rare and costly, each so well tempered, and so happily adapted, and withal so circumstanced. For even in that particular, a poet says, love demands that the parties be altogether paired, that its satisfaction can very seldom be assured. It cannot subsist in its perfection, say some of those who are learned in this warm glow of the heart betwixt more than two. I am not quite so strict in my terms, perhaps because I have never known so high a friendship as others. I please my imagination more with a circle of godlike men and women, variously related to each other, and between whom subsists a lofty intelligence. But I find this law of one to one peremptory for a conversation, which is the practice and consumation of friendship. Do not mix waters too much. The best mix is ill as good and bad. You shall have very useful and cheering discourse at several times with two several men. But let all three of you come together, and you shall not have one new and hearty word. Two may talk and one may hear, but three cannot take part in a conversation of the most sincere and searching sort. In good company. There is never such discourse between two across the table as takes place when you leave them alone. In good company, the individuals merge their egotism into a social soul exactly co extensive with the several consciousnesses. There present no partialities of friend to fend, No fondnesses of brother to sister, of wife to husband are their pertinent. But quite otherwise. Only he may then speak, who can sail on the common thought of the party, and not poorly limited to his own. Now, this convention, which good sense demands, destroys the high freedom of great conversation, which requires an absolute running of two souls into one. No, two men, but being left alone with each other, enter into simpler relations. Yet it is affinity that determines which too shall converse. Unrelated men give little joy to each other, will never suspect the latent powers of each. We talk sometimes of a great talent for conversation, as if it were a permanent property. In some individuals, conversation is an evanescent relation. No more a man is reputed to have thought and eloquence, he cannot, for all that say a word to his cousin or his uncle. They accuse his silence with as much reason as they would blame the insignificance of a dial in the shade in the sun. It will mark the hour. Among those who enjoy his thoughts, he will regain his tongue. Friendship requires that rare mean betwixt likeness and unlikeness, that piques each other with the presence of power and of consent in the other party. Let me be alone to the end of the world, rather than that my friend should overstep by a word or life, his real sympathy. I am equally balked by antagonism and by compliance. Let him not cease an instant to be himself. The only joy I have in his being mind is that the not mine is mine. I hate where I look for a manly furtherance, or at least a manly resistance, to find a mush of concession. Better be a nettle in the side of your friend. Than his echo. The condition which high friendship demands is ability to do without it. That high office requires great and sublime parts. There must be very two before there can be very one. Let it be an alliance of two large formidable natures, mutually beheld, mutually feared before. Yet they recognize the deep identity which beneath these disparities unites them. He only is fit for this society, he who is magnanimous, who is sure that greatness and goodness are always economy, who is not swift to intermeddle with his fortunes. Let him not inter meddle with this. Leave to the diamond its ages to grow, nor expect to accelerate the birth of the eternal. Friendship demands a religious treatment. We talk of choosing our friends, but friends are self elected. Reverence is a great part of it. Treat your friend as a spectacle. Of course, he has merits that are not yours, and that you cannot honor. If you must needs, hold him close to your person, stand aside, give those merits room, let them mount and expand. Are you the friend of your friend's buttons or of his thought? To a great heart? He will still be a stranger in a thousand particulars that he may come near in the holiest ground. Leave it to girls and boys to regard a friend as property and a short and all confounding pleasure instead of the noblest benefit. Let us buy our entrance to this guild by a long probation. Why should we desecrate noble and beautiful souls by intruding on them? Why insist on rash personal relations with your friend? Why go to his house, or know his mother and brother and sisters? Why be visited by him at your own? Are these things material to our covenant? Leave this touching and clawing. Let him be to me a spirit, a message or thought, a sincerity, a glance from him I want, but not news nor pottage. I can get politics and chat and neighborly conveniences from cheaper companions. Should not the society of my friend be to me poetic, pure, universal, and great as nature itself ought? I to feel that our tie is profane in comparison with yonder bar of cloud that sleeps on the horizon, or that clump of waving grass that divides the brook. Let us not vilify, but raise it to that standard, that great, defying eye that scornful beauty of his mien and action. Do not pique yourself on reducing, but rather fortify and enhance worship his superiorities. Wish him not less by our thoughts, but hold and tell them all guard him as thy counterpart. Let him be to thee for ever a sort of beautiful enemy, untamable, devoutly revered, and not a trivial conveniency to be soon outgrown and cast aside. The hues of the opal, the light of the diamond are not to be seen if the eye is too near to my friend. I write a letter, and from him I receive a letter that seems to you a little. It suffices me. It is a spiritual gift, worthy of him to give and of me to receive. It profanes nobody. In these warm lines, the heart will trust itself as it will not to the tongue, and pour out the prophecy of a godlier existence than all the annals of heroism have yet made. Good respect so far the holy laws of this fellowship, as not to prejudice its perfect flower by your patience for its opening. We must be our own before we can be another's. There is at least this satisfaction in crime. According to the Latin proverb, you can speak to your accomplice on even terms creemen cous in quinnat equat, to those whom we admire and love at first, we cannot yet the least defect of self possession vitiates, in my judgment, the entire relation. There can never be deep peace between two spirits, never mutual respect, until in their dialogue each stands for the whole world. What is so great as friendship? Let us carry with what grandeer spirit we can. Let us be silent so we may hear the whisper of the gods. Let us not interfere. Who set you to cast about what you should say to the select souls, or how to say anything to such, No matter how ingenious, no matter how graceful and bland. There are innumerable degrees of folly and wisdom, And for you to say aught is to be frivolous. Wait and thy heart shall speak. Wait until the necessary and everlasting overpowers you, until day and night avail themselves of your lips. The only reward of virtue is virtue. The only way to have a friend is to be one. You shall not come nearer a man by getting into his house, if unlike his soul only flees the faster from you, and you shall never catch a true glance of his eye. We see that noble afar off, and they repel us. Why should we intrude? Late? Very late? We perceive that no arrangements, no introductions, nonconsuitudes, or habits of society, would be of any avail to establish us in such relations with them as we desire, but solely the uprise of nature in us to the same degree it is in them. Then shall we meet as water with water. And if we should not meet them, then we shall not want them, for we are already they. In the last analysis, love is the only 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 our friendship, of course, the less easy to establish it with flesh and blood. We walk alone in the world. 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, we may congratulate ourselves at the period of knowledge of follies, of blunders, and of shame is past in solitude, and when we are finished men, we shall grasp heroic hands in heroic hands. Only be admonished by what you already see, not to strike leagues of friendship with cheap persons where no friendship can be. Our impatience betrays us into rash and foolish alliances, which no God intends. By persisting in your path, though you forfeit the little, you gain the great. You demonstrate yourself so as to put yourself out of the reach of false relations, and you draw to you the first born of the world, those rare pilgrims, whereof only one or two wander in nature at once, and before whom the vulgar great show as specters and shadows. Merely, it is foolish to be afraid of making our ties too spiritual, as if so we could lose any genuine love. Whatever correction of our popular views we make from insight, Nature will be sure to bear us out in and though it seemed to rob us of some joy, will repay us with a greater Let us feel if we will be absolute insolation of man, we are sure that we have all in us. We go to Europe, or we pursue persons, or we read books in the instinctive faith that these will call it out and reveal us to ourselves beggars, or the persons are such as we the europe An old fabled garment of dead persons, the books their ghosts. Let us drop this idolatry. Let us give over this mendicancy. Let us even bid our dearest friends farewell and defy them, saying, who are you unhand me? I will be dependent no more. Ah seest thou not o brother, that thus we part only to meet again on a higher platform, and only be more each others because we are more our own. A friend is janice faced. He looks to the past and the future. He is the child of all my foregoing hours, the profit of those to come, and the harbinger of a greater friend. I do then with my friends, as I do with my books. I would have them where I can find them, but I seldom use them. We must have society on our own terms, and admit or exclude it on the slightest cause I cannot afford to speak much after my friend. If he is great, he makes me so great that I cannot send a converse. In the great days, presentiments hover before me in the firmament. I ought then to dedicate myself to them. I go in that I may seize them. I go out that I may seize them. I fear only that I may lose them, receding into the sky in which now they are only a patch of brighter light. Then, though I prize my friends, I cannot afford to talk with them and study their visions, lest I lose my own. It would indeed give me a certain household joy to quit this lofty seeking, this spiritual astronomy, or search of stars, and come down to warm sympathies with you. But then I know well I shall mourn always the vanishing of my mighty gods. It is true. Next week I shall have languid moods, when I can well afford to occupy myself with foreign objects. Then I shall regret the lost literature of your mind, and which you were by my side again. But if you come, perhaps you will fill my mind only with new visions, not with yourself, but with your lusters, and I shall not be able any more than now to converse with you. So I will owe to my friends this evanescent intercourse. I will receive from them not what they have, but what they are. They shall give me that which properly they cannot give, but which emanates from them. But they shall not hold me by any relations less subtle and pure. We will meet as though we met not, and part as though we parted not. It has seemed to me lately more possible than I knew, to carry a friendship greatly on one side without due correspondence on the other. Why should I cumber myself with regrets that the receiver is not capacious. It never troubles the Sun that some of his rays fall wide and vain into ungrateful space, only a small part on the reflecting planet. Let your Greatness educate the crude and cold companion. If he is unequal, he will presently pass away. But thou art enlarged by thy own shining, and no longer a mate for frogs and worms, dust, soar and burn with the gods of the Empyrean. It is thought a disgrace to love unrequited, But the Great will see that true love cannot be unrequited. True love transcends the unworthy object, and dwells and broods on the eternal. And when the poor interposed mask crumbles, it is not sad, but feels rid of so much earth, and feels its independency the surer. Yet these things may hardly be said without a sort of treachery to the relation. The essence of friendship is entireness, a total magnanimity and trust. It must not surmise or provide for infer It treats its object as a god, that it may deify both and of friendship