FRIENDS: ACTIVE AND PASSIVE.
AVAST number of people, we fear a growing number, do not know the difference between friends and intimates. The word "sympathy" means to them something which is only necessary in sorrow. The familiarity which forbids ceremony is all they ask for in their closest acquaint- ance, and they mistake ease of intercourse for the essential of friendship. A certain proportion, however, are born with a capacity for friendship, and these- may be roughly divided into two sorts, the active and the passive, or perhaps we might use more romantic words, and call them windward and leeward friends. Some people seem to have the power of attracting to themselves friends who need their protection. They try instinctively to stand between their friends and the world. On the other hand, there are those who from their earliest years desire and seek and find protectors. In youth, at any rate, they have a great charm.
It is, of course, a truism to say that no one has very
many friends of any sort. We have heard it said that three, outside of a man's own family, is a liberal com- putation of the likely. But we are not using the word in quite so restricted a sense. Most of those who have any friends at all could think of at least seven or eight to whom they would not like to give the cold name of acquaintance. Those fortunate men and women who count their chief friends among their relations have less need of friends drawn from the outside world, and have, as a rule, fewer. For instance, where a great friendship exists between husband and wife—we mean where common interests and intellectual con- fidence render them perfect comrades—neither of them has as a rule many great friends unless they find them among their children. Now and then we even find the children estranged by the mutual sufficiency of their parents. "It is not us that they think of," we have heard growing-up children say sadly, with the natural selfishness of youth and the natural desire of the new generation to stand first with the old. Children have a craving for attention, and grudge if they see their due in this respect being diverted from them. Whether affection or frivolity be the cause of their loss they care not. Where this strong friendship exists between husband and wife it is not rare to see the wife stand always to wind- ward. We are inclined to think that this state of things is new or, at any rate, is much commoner than it was; we never see it depicted among the early Victorians. Any- how, there are nowadays plenty of "windward wives "— women who try to take the first brunt of the shocks and disappointments which must necessarily increase with the years, and -who try, as it were, to edit the story of life as it unfolds itself in daily parts before their husbands' eyes. It is not quite a natural r6le for a woman to play, and like all unnatural work it tends to wear her out. On the other band, there is no doubt that she gets immense satisfaction out of it. It was a curious convention which made all ideal affection between a man and a woman depend upon a rigid division between them of strength and weakness. Great strength and determination can exist with all the womanly qualities, although, speaking without cynicism, a power to assume weakness is a grace.
But setting aside the question of husband and wife, where very unusual family affection exists together with such unusual circumstances as sometimes keep a family close to one another after all the members are grown up, much outside friendship is rare. Clannishness is inimical to its growth.. The clan stand together, and whether they make real friend- ships within the enclosure or whether custom and tradition account for their solidarity outsiders do not know. Families are, however, less united than they used to be, or than they used to seem, and most of those to whom friendship is necessary make friends outside their own blood and become active or passive friends according to their nature.
An active friend is often a very good fellow ; he is occasionally the best fellow in the world. Before he is old he has probably seen several good people through tight places in which, without him, they would most likely have been squeezed to death. On the other hand, there are active friends who, looked at from outside the circle of their dependents, have very marked and very paltry defects. In the same way there are some passive friends who are despic- able, and there are some passive friends, or should we perhaps say some leeward friends, who are among the most lovable people in the world. The double sense of the word " appeal " throws a light upon their attraction. They appeal to the hearts of the strong. The best specimen of an active friend is a man who must not as a rule be judged by his friends. They have chosen him rather than he them, and some of them are sure to be describable as "crocks." All his life he works with a drag on him. It is only the inferior quality of active friend who gets as a rule to the top. There are exceptions—such exceptions have unusual abilities and a genius for the economy of time—a man who cannot make the most of the sixteen hours in the day is seldom a successful man and an active friend. One reason is that he cannot concentrate his attention on his own progress. There is always so-and-so and so-and-so who must be thought of. To get them along the road, a few steps must be retraced, a few opportunities lost. The active friend must not be in too much hurry. He has men at his back," but they never " push " him—unless it is towards
heaven. Short of his obvious destination, however, he is not without reward. He has the thing we all in our hearts desire. He has importance. It matters very much to a great many people what becomes of him. It is only to a superficial observer that he appears to have sacrificed preferment. The game of Providence is probably the best worth playing in the world. No one ever heard of the man who played it being dull or being in despair. A perfectly disinterested player cannot sink either morally or socially, or into the slough of despond. But all players are not disinterested. There are some active friends who have a craving to be king of their company. They are willing to rule by kindness, but rule they will, and they live surrounded by fawning lame dogs, some of whom are malingering. Between these two extremes come, of course, average active friends—men and women who, without making any great sacrifice or seeking anything for themselves, are neither too shy nor too lazy to offer their services to anyone they care for when the human interest of their friends' situation appeals to them. They get an occa- sional snub, but they are not unduly sensitive, and they get and deserve a great many thanks, which soon wash out the bitter remembrance of a rebuff. There are among them a small section of active friends who are really very strongly moved by pity, and by pity only. The heart of these people resembles a hospital. They turn out the " cured " on the very day that they are able to take care of themselves. Their "friends" might be better described as "patients." It is difficult to care much for these active friends, but there will never be too many of them in the world. They give pity for love and get gratitude back—and are satisfied.
The reproach of the passive friend is easy to express. We can all throw a stone at the man who never puts himself out, who never rushes into a fight where his friend is getting the worst of it, who prides himself on never having exercised any " interest " for anybody, and who is always just out of call when he is wanted and contents himself with expressing his regret that he heard no cry for help. But there are friends who must be described as leeward friends, who are not in the least like this. They are born with an incapacity to brave the weather. They seek shelter beside their friends. In return for that shelter they give what they can, sometimes all that they have. They are the men who never desert, but cannot lead. They bring into the world little courage and much faith—they have a childlike belief in human nature—and gain in it little deference but a considerable amount of love. They have often a great deal of talent—especially for friendship.
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